


The Impossibility of We

by saucyminx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-16
Updated: 2010-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-28 09:31:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 62,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucyminx/pseuds/saucyminx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since he was born Sam's had a companion no one else could see, a guardian, a presence he just doesn't know how to be without.  His <i>Dean</i>.  As he gets older it becomes a challenge to understand how this <i>companion</i> - never seen by anyone else but perfectly real to him - can still fit into his life and what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There never was a _before_. Not for him. No, there was always just _Sam_. Dean had been made from this and that, pieces of good and logic and emotions left untapped until they might be needed one day in the not so distant future. Though seemingly a child himself, he watched from the shadows of the nursery as the mother and father cradled their brand new baby boy and called him Sammy and sang him lullabies.

It was warm, home, something Dean would always know _of_ but would never _know_. Of course, the mother and father were unaware of his presence and liked to think their son was just one of those special babies that took habit of sleeping through the night from birth.

In truth, Dean found he fit easily in the space between the infant and the crib, in child form he was just big enough to provide comfort and soothe; only wavering when the mother tip toed quietly across wooden floor to raise the child for a feeding. Dean never intruded on these times for he knew they were to be so few. Baby Sammy would never be given the chance to know his mother's love the way most would. But Baby Sammy had Dean, and no matter what evil crossed his path, Dean would never go.

As was destined, at six months of age evil made its appearance in the form of a Demon with an agenda. It was not Dean's place to stop the creature from completing its task, no, another life would be taken for that to happen, but Dean held the infant as close as possible. And when the father stepped forward, scooped him up moments before the fire, Dean trailed after, pulled along by an invisible tether that would never allow him to stray far from his charge.

The few months that followed were a test on the father, and he barely managed to pass. If Dean had not been there to tuck up against Sammy's side, the father might not have been strong enough. But Dean was there, for this was his purpose, what he had been created for. Dean knew there were others like himself out there, and occasionally on drives he would spot the ghost like shape floating along beside an often unaware human, and he found himself pressing into the side of his Sammy's car seat until he ceased to be whole and merely hovered between this dimension and the next.

Sammy became aware of his presence not long after his first birthday. The child was growing at an alarming rate that seemed to intimidate the father so Dean took this task as his own. His little finger became something solid to massage along gum's cutting teeth, his hands acted as solid fixtures for shaky first steps and his gentle caresses across the brow soothed tears when steps led to falling down. When the father lost himself for hours pouring over old text books and speaking to strangers on the phone, Dean pushed the ball with the growing boy, spoke with him in quiet murmurs that started off as nonsensical things and gradually shaped into real worlds made up mostly of Sammy and Dean and always.

As the year progressed Sammy began to speak and, to Dean's great pleasure, his words sounded distinctly more _De_ and less _Da_. Dean would feel appropriately ashamed of his elation when he saw the mildly distressed sadness upon the father's face but there was no one to fool in dimly lit motel rooms and Dean was wiser than his appearance suggested he may be. He knew of the life path the father was leading his child down and knew of a future to come that was destined to be many things. Not all of which were good.

The second and third year Dean did not worry that Sammy spoke to him, to nothing but air in his father's eyes; for he understood many children had imaginary friends. And though Dean was not imaginary, he was Sammy's and he happily took the place of playmate. He was just the right size to aid Sammy in big boy things, to push him on the swing while the father allowed him to play in the park attached to a motel, to wash his hair in the bath while the father rushed to answer an important call, then lay with him in bed at night and hold him close even when he shivered slightly and woke with nightmares that made him cry.

Things had to change Sammy's fourth year. The father had rented a small house and arranged for a school for Sammy to attend. This, Dean understood, was very important though it meant their endless afternoons running around in fields of grass and staring up at fluffy white clouds were drawing to a close. It was something they were meant to speak of, Dean knew, and as the days of July gave way to August, Dean tried to prepare them both for the second test in young Sammy's life.

"Sammy," he began, catching the edge of the swing to keep the boy from pumping his legs through air once more, "C'mon, let's go make shapes out of the clouds." Dean offered his hand and smiled, turning to the side in time to catch the father watch Sammy's abrupt stop curiously from the bench he sat on.

Reaching out and grabbing Dean's hand, Sammy wriggled his butt forward and slid down off the swing. "I like doin'at." Sam rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand and trailed along behind Dean. "My Dean," he murmured, "right?"

"Always your Dean," he confirmed with a smile and they picked a spot in the sunshine, spreading out along the hill. Dean allowed his arm to rest beneath Sam's head and act as a pillow so the boy would not be uncomfortable. "Sammy, you know how your Dad talked to you about going to school soon?"

"Yup." Sam shifted closer so that he could smell Dean. He liked the way Dean smelled; fresh like flowers and the night when it came in his bedroom window. "I'ma learn drawin' so I can make my whole name." Sam wiggled his sneaker clad foot back and forth.

Smiling brightly Dean nodded and relished in the things that made the child human: the beat of his heart, the warmth of his skin, the _real_ of his touch. "You're gonna do great Sammy. And you know I said, I would _always_ be with you? I'm gonna go to school with you but you can't talk to me there; not around the other kids. They won't be able to see me, and they won't get it. Okay?"

Sam frowned and twisted to look up at his friend's face. "But I always talk to you." Sam's expression brightened again and he grinned. "I will talk to you, you're my best friend." He nodded seriously and settled back against Dean's shoulder.

Though warmth stirred up in him Dean frowned slightly and shook his head. "Sammy, you're my best friend too; my only one. But it's okay to make other friends, real friends. I'm your special friend, made only for you." Dean turned his neck so his lips could press a comforting kiss to Sammy's temple. "Do you understand? I'm a friend made _only_ for you, and you never have to share me with anyone."

"Then why get more?" Sam fiddled with a thread hanging off the pocket of his shirt. Brows furrowing as he tried to pull it off. He didn't need more friends. He had Dean.

"I think it might make your Dad happy," Dean suggested though he enjoyed the idea of not sharing Sammy with those other children. Dean had observed them, various children in parks and diners, and it seemed that they could be mean and hurtful. Dean would never want his Sammy to suffer that way. "Maybe we can make a game out of it," he suggested, knowing how the boy liked games. "I can be your secret and your most important task is to keep me that way; a secret."

"Like spies?" Sammy perked up rolling to lean on Dean's chest so he could see his friend's face clearly. "I can keep secrets." Sam motioned zipping his lips together.

Dean grinned at him and nodded. "Yeah, just like spies." This settled some of the apprehension Dean carried. He would be there to watch quietly from the shadows, and would, for as long as he was needed.

They settled in to name the shapes in the clouds until sometime later when the father called for his son and they rose as one to join him. "Who were you talkin' to Sammy?" The father asked curiously, offering his hand free of a notebook to the boy.

"Dean but he's a secret spy so we can't talk 'bout him." Sammy grabbed his Dad's rough hand with both of his and lifted his feet up off the ground hoping his Dad would do the swing thing.

Frowning slightly the man nodded and lifted his son once before dropping him down to his feet. "Come on Sam, you're old enough to walk like a big boy."

As Sammy's free hand dropped, Dean stepped into the space and slipped his own through tiny fingers. They shared a private smile and continued their walk back to the shiny black car in silence.

-=-=-=-

Time was a concept Dean had never learned to grasp. Unlike humans he didn't require sleep or food, so days and nights, weeks and months, years, blurred together, marked only by Sammy's progression from young child to older.

As Sammy grew, so did Dean, staying what would be considered a few years older, gaining more information as if it simply _appeared_ in his mind. The boy learned to read and write and Dean gained the knowledge as well, always enough to help with homework and hand outs when the father was too otherwise preoccupied. Together they watched movies and TV shows, moved from one town to the next, and Dean remained that constant presence in the background.

At school Sammy learned that Dean remained a secret because the others his age did not have someone like him. It was no longer a matter of playing spies, and Sammy even grew to make friendships, spent the night at little boy's houses where Dean would watch from the sidelines as Sammy played with real children. The inevitable day came when he asked a boy about imaginary friends and the boy explained with a laugh that, at seven, there were no longer such things.

Sammy had come home from that sleepover quiet and thoughtful and Dean waited for questions he wasn't sure how to answer. It was another test, of a different variety, one that Dean had always expected to arrive.

Sammy dropped his backpack just inside his bedroom door and sank down onto the side of his bed. One of his shoelaces was untied and he flipped his foot to the side to toss the lace around. Glancing up at Dean he chewed on his bottom lip for a few moments before looking back down at his sneakers. "Mikey said I'm too old for imaginary friends." His small fingers twisted together on his lap. "You're not real."

"I'm not imaginary," Dean reasoned and joined Sam on the bed, reaching out to poke his side. "How could I do that if I wasn't real?" Sometimes Dean wondered if Sam was wise beyond his years; a consequence of the lifestyle his father forced upon his son.

"So," Sam looked down at his fingers intently, "am I nuts like Jason's Mama?" He swallowed and glanced at Dean out of the corner of his eye. "His mama talks to no one and she doesn't know she's nuts. Mickey said if Jason's Dad wasn't there they'd take him away and put him in some jail for kids - like with bars and everything." Sam could feel his heart beating faster with fear. He didn't want Dean to not be real anymore than he wanted to be taken somewhere and locked up.

"No. I don't know if Jason's Mama is nuts, but you're not." Dean insisted quietly and twisted his hands together in his lap. "You know how sometimes there are things that are real and sometimes there aren't. Like Santa Claus." Dean remembered when Sam learned that, a few years ago when his Dad forgot the days and didn't show up with presents until two days after Christmas. "Well, I'm one of the real things. I'm like... a guardian angel." Dean had never spoken the words but they seemed to make sense and he looked up at Sam hopefully.

Sam wanted to believe Dean more than anything. "Angels aren't real either," Sam shook his head sadly. "I don't wanna go to kid jail." Sam's eyes welled up with tears. "My Dad - he'll be really mad, Dean." Sam's small hand reached out for Dean's. Real or not, the only person who ever made him feel safe was Dean.

Taking Sam's hand easily Dean smiled and slowly shook his head. "I think your Dad thinks you've grown out of the _Dean_ phase. You don't talk to me when he's around anymore." He lifted his shoulders and looked up to the ceiling, searching for a way to explain. "Angels. They are real. But most people don't see them. You're special. Right now you can see me. Maybe one day you won't need me, and you won't see me anymore, but I will _always_ be there." Dean reached out with his free hand and pressed it into Sam's chest over his heart. "Your Dean, remember? Always."

Sam flung his arms around Dean's neck. "I don't want you to go, not _ever_." He sniffed loudly and buried his face in Dean's hair. "Mickey's a liar, I'ma punch him in the face." Sam wiped at his eyes but made sure he didn't let go of Dean.

Laughing softly Dean cupped the back of Sam's neck and squeezed softly. "Maybe you should just tell Mickey he has a big nose and weird ears." Dean knew he would never leave his Sammy, only if Sammy told him too. This was what he was meant for; Sammy was his life and he was unable to imagine a world beyond that. "You're my Sammy," he said quietly and held him close, content to never let go.

Reaching up Sam curled some of Dean's hair around his finger; he hadn't done it in a long time but he didn't care. "Sometimes," he mumbled, "things are really confusing. I can't wait to be grown up." Sighing, he snuggled up to Dean and started to finally relax.

Dean didn't know the future, but he knew parts of it, knew that Sam's future was enough to warrant his having a guardian angel. Whatever waited for him, it would be intense to say the least. "I think being grown up might be overrated," Dean pointed out and curled his hand over Sam's knee. "You wanna watch a movie? I think we've done a lot of thinking today. It's too much for my brain."

"Sure, you can pick this time. I don't choose good sometimes." Sam let go reluctantly.

-=-=-=-

With that test behind them Sam was more easily accepting of Dean's presence and his questions changed back to solid things, subjects Dean felt more ready to address.

The following year, when Sam was eight, he learned exactly what his father did, what took them from one town to the next so readily. There had been a bit of a falling out period between child and father and Dean settled in, offering Sam answers when his Dad was incapable of explaining things completely. Dean understood that the man meant well, that his life had been broken that day in the nursery when his wife and love had perished, but Sam was simply a child wishing to understand.

Once Sam had accepted the truth, the reality of the world, it seemed he was more accepting of Dean's presence. Knowing there was bad out there helped him believe there really could be such things as angels. The good and the evil: a whole different plain of existence that most people remained unaware of.

Life shifted back into its steady blur. Sam continued to grow, Dean along with him, until they were no longer children. On the verge of being a teenager, Sam's priorities had shifted from toys and games of make believe. He was no longer friends with only boys because girls had cooties, now he was aware of girls, of the changes in his body that made him less of a boy and more of a man. These were things Dean did not know. His body, though technically designed as several years older, did not experience puberty, at least not as Sam would understand it. Occasionally he found himself feeling the faintest heat along his spirit but it was unnameable and often passed before Dean could give it much thought.

They settled into a home, the father content with the idea Sam was old enough to leave in one place. So he went off on his own and Sam finally had something stable, somewhat. A home, friends, school, all things familiar. And Dean.

With Sam, it was different. Suddenly he had shot up a few inches, growing out of his jeans, choosing to keep his hair a little longer and allowing his father to buy clothes a size or two bigger so he could grow into them. It worried Dean, only slightly, the way Sam was aging so quickly. He suddenly spent more time talking about the girl's in his class, and most days he didn't speak to Dean until they were walking home from school, and Dean would listen to Sam's questions about which girl he found most pleasing to look at. Truthfully, he spent very little time looking at the girls; his gaze remained on Sam, always watching for the times when he was needed.

Even with the changes it was still _Sammy and Dean_ whenever they were home. Dean treasured the moments when they settled in on the couch together, laughing over whatever was playing on TV, listening to popular music and discussing their favourites.

Dean knew a time would come when his limitations would be more obvious, though he would never be prepared. It happened on a Tuesday, when Sam had seemed oddly quiet and skittish along the walk home. Dean allowed it to simmer until they stepped inside before asking quietly. "What is it Sam?"

Shrugging, Sam kicked his shoes off and moved over to his desk to pull out his homework. "Stuff," he said. Sinking down into his wooden chair he scratched at the back of his neck then tossed his book down on the desk where it landed with a dull thud. "What do you know about kissing?"

Frowning slightly Dean stood beside the desk, leaning against the wall a moment later. "Kissing? We've seen that on TV." He looked towards the TV before looking back at Sam. "I've never kissed anyone, because you're the only one who knows I exist. Why?" It wasn't often Sam kept things from him, maybe only once a few months ago when Sam's body went through its first initial change into adulthood after catching sight of his Dad's dirty magazines. Dean had known how to explain it, what it meant, and Sam filled in the gaps from what he'd learned at school. That had been... a little awkward. Especially since Dean couldn't relate personal information to it. Kissing might turn out to be the same way.

"I know _what_ it is." Sam rolled his eyes and turned to face his desk so Dean wouldn't see the flush crawling up his neck. "I was just sorta wondering how you know if it's someone you want to kiss. Like," Sam shifted sideways so his arm was dangling over the back of his chair. "These two girls invited me to this dumb party on Friday after the dance and one of 'em-" Sam huffed out a breath and let his head flop down onto his arm. "Oh never mind." Sometimes it was hard to explain things to Dean.

"What? One of them what?" Dean asked curiously, sliding a little closer. "I can help; even if you just talk about it." He didn't want the years where Sam would begin to shut him out to start now. He wanted to remain an important part of Sam's life always.

"Do you want to kiss one of them?" Something Dean could name as slight jealousy wavered through him but Dean associated it more with Sam pulling away slightly to experience the real world.

Sam shrugged and tilted his chin up slightly to peer at Dean through his bangs. "Liz said that Carmen told her that Sharon wanted me to go to the party because she wanted to kiss me." Sam's cheeks felt like they were on fire. He had no idea how people managed to even talk about things like kissing, let alone do it.

Smiling slightly in encouragement Dean nodded as he thought over the situation, considering different outcomes. "And, Sharon, do you want to kiss her? Is she one of those girls you said looked pretty?" Dean couldn't recall which girl Sharon was but he made a note to discover it the following day.

"I don't really know her." Sam chewed on the side of his bottom lip for a few moments. "Are you supposed to kiss people you know? I mean, you can't like someone you don't know. Gary says she has big," Sam whispered the next word, "boobs."

Scrunching up his face slightly Dean nodded. He didn't quite see the appeal of _boobs_ but then, as an angel, he supposed things of that nature weren't meant to be appealing. "Maybe it's because it would be your first kiss? I think your first kiss is supposed to be something special, because you're going to remember it always." Dean shrugged slightly, smiling at the faint blush on Sam's cheeks.

"But I don't know her." Sam sighed dramatically and turned back to his desk. "That means it won't be special. What if she sucks? Or worse, what if she thinks I suck once she talks to me." Sam's eyes widened as the full extent of all the horrible possibilities started to sink in. "I bet I'll get teased if I don't kiss her now 'cause everyone knows."

"Well, do you like anyone else? Maybe someone you know? Because then you could kiss them before and have your first kiss, then you'll maybe know more about it." Dean was feeling slightly out of his element but he understood the need for Sam to bounce ideas of him, just to talk about things and clear the air.

Picking up a pencil off his desk Sam banged the eraser end of it against the desk. "Do you think it's okay to kiss boys?" Sam held his breath and stared down at the desk.

Despite his angel status, Dean's mind didn't work in the way he supposed most angels would, and he shrugged once more. "I think it's okay if you want to kiss boys." He eyed Sam for a moment, twitching at the hem of his coat. "Is there a boy you want to kiss?" Dean stared down at the carpet, wondering what it would be like to kiss someone; to kiss Sam. Wondering if he would get in trouble for doing something like that.

"Maybe." Sam opened his math book and started flipping through the pages aimlessly. "Do you think about girls?" He kept flipping through the pages even though his eyes weren't even focused on the contents.

"No," Dean answered truthfully without hesitation. "Not in a physical way. It wouldn't matter if I did. Girls would not think of me," he chuckled humourlessly, fingers sliding along his sleeve.

"So you don't think about boys either then." Sam snapped his book closed and slid it away from him.

"I think about you," Dean whispered, looking up at Sam slowly.

"That's different," Sam sighed. "You have to think about me."

Brushing his hair off his forehead Sam shifted on his seat and flicked his pencil at the bulletin board on the wall above his desk. It stuck there on the first throw, wobbling a few times before it fell and bounced on the desk. "I just think I won't go to the party," he paused. "Yeah, I'll just come home after the dance." Sam was already learning that some things were better avoided than faced.

"If that's what you want," Dean said quietly and pushed away from the wall, choosing to take a place on the couch since it seemed likely Sam would want to do his homework now. He didn't know if he was supposed to encourage Sam to go to the party, after all, he would have to experience his first kiss eventually. Maybe it was better for him to wait. Or maybe Dean wanted to be that special someone for him. He wasn't sure if that was a thought that was alright to have. If it meant something about him he wasn't meant to feel. "Maybe your first kiss should be with someone you trust," Dean spoke up a few minutes later, eyes scanning along the familiar living room setting.

"I don't trust very many people." Another thing Sam had learned. Trust shouldn't be given out easily. "They don't know about the crap that we know about." He turned to flash Dean a knowing and sad smile. "Tom's kind of a dork and he lies sometimes, Liz is okay but I don't really know her and Carmen," Sam shrugged and wrinkled his nose to show his dislike. "I trust you."

"Then... maybe-" Dean frowned slightly and glanced back at Sam. "Maybe your first kiss should be with me." His shoulders tensed slightly, as if saying the words alone would change the world around them, like some force might work against him and pull Dean away from his Sammy.

"Maybe," Sam said softly. He rubbed his socked feet back and forth on the floor in front of his chair. "Just to see?" Sam sighed again and tugged on his t-shirt. Everything was so complicated now that Sam was older. "Do you wanna try? Just to see?" He glanced over at Dean quickly then dropped his eyes back to his feet.

Wetting his lips slowly Dean nodded. "Yeah, okay. I think I'd like to," he stared down at his lap before looking back up at Sam, shifting on the couch. "But, if I'm not very good you have to promise we'll still be okay. Because you're my best friend and that's important." Dean smiled, slightly nervous, mostly building with anticipation.

"Does kissing people wreck that?" Sam's eyes narrowed.

Dean shrugged and picked at a loose thread on the couch cushion. "I don't know. I don't think so? It's not like I would go anywhere, no matter what." He glanced back up at Sam and frowned. "Do you want to kiss me?"

Sam shrugged and slid off his chair to pad over to the couch and flop down beside Dean. Sam loved Dean; he was part of Sam's family. Really, he _was_ Sam's family - Dean was closer to Sam than his own father. It didn't upset Sam that his father was the way he was; he was used to it. So, while half of Sam's mind was freaking out and wondering what was going to happen the other half was glad he was sitting there with the one person in the entire universe with whom he was comfortable.

There had never been a time Dean could recall being nervous around Sam. This seemed important somehow and he turned slightly to face him, eyebrows pulling together. "So, should I kiss you? Or should you kiss me? Can we do it at the same time?" He smiled slightly and slid forward an inch until his knee rested against Sam's.

"I think it's a do-it-together kind of thing." Sam scratched the side of his head and grinned shyly. "Do I keep my mouth closed or open?" Sam blinked a few times and couldn't help looking down at Dean's lips before meeting his familiar gaze again.

Thinking about how they'd seen kissing done on TV, Dean wet his lips once more and scratched his thigh. "Closed at first I think. Maybe it's an instinct thing? Like breathing or swallowing, you just know what to do next?" Dean hoped it would be natural, be okay, he hoped he wouldn't do something stupid that made Sam act weird with him. "Okay. Maybe we should just _do_ it and not think about it anymore." He nodded quickly and shifted closer, leaning toward Sam slowly.

Sam kept his eyes open long enough to make sure his lips were headed the right way then squeezed them closed. His nose bumped Dean's right before their lips pressed together. It was strange, soft and warm and Sam gasped as his cheeks flamed red.

For Dean, it wasn't like touching Sam, like holding him close, it was something different. Warmth tingled across his lips in a way he hadn't anticipated. Dean's eyes stayed open until he realized Sam's were closed then he squeezed them shut and pressed more firmly against Sam's mouth. They stayed that way for maybe a full minute; Dean wondered what was so special about this particular thing and opened his mouth to ask just that. But his lips were still against Sam's and they slipped across silky flesh, igniting the pleasant tingling warmth all over again.

Heat flared through Sam's body as their lips moved gently, his own lips parted as his hand jerked forward to reach blindly for Dean's arm. It was nicer than he expected, _much_ nicer. It was like being sunk into a bathtub full of warm water and then getting ice thrown all over you - it felt all weird and unusual but _really_ good. Jerking back rather suddenly Sam kept his eyes closed for a few moments, fingers still curled over Dean's arm. Blinking a few times he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Everything felt different for Dean, in him, like kissing Sam had opened up some part of him he had previously thought would never exist. He wanted to do it again, longer, learn _how_ to. "That was very pleasant," he said softly and traced his lips slowly with his tongue because they were still tingling.

"It was like, all hot and cold and frictiony," Sam thought about it, finally releasing his grip on Dean's arm. "Kind of like pins and needles only better." Sam shifted back a bit and turned so he was leaning back against the couch. "So - I guess that's what it should feel like if you trust someone, right?" Sam turned his head slowly, lashes falling to his still rosy cheeks for a few moments before he drew in a deep breath and looked back into Dean's eyes.

Smiling slowly Dean nodded, "Yes. I believe that's what it should feel like. Only... it's more than trust with us. Maybe because we're so close." His smile grew and he settled back onto the couch beside Sam, head turning to face him. "I think it was a very good first kiss, as far as first kisses go." His hand extended and Dean felt pleased that there was no hesitation in laying his palm across Sam's thigh.

"Me too - I'm glad I can remember that one." Sam grinned and hesitated only a moment before wriggling down onto the couch so that he could rest his head on Dean's lap. Reaching for the coffee table he grabbed the TV remote and started flicking through the channels. "Say stop when you see something you want to watch."

There were so many questions running through Dean's mind he wasn't sure how to process them. Normally it was Sam with the questions, Dean with the answers. Who would answer his questions now? The TV flashed to a crime show and Dean told Sam to stop, settling against the cushion until his side rested against Sam's. "So, are you going to go to the party?"

"Nope." Sam stopped flicking through the channels and turned the sound up a bit. "I don't want to kiss Sharon." Sam smiled and tossed the remote back on the coffee table so he could tuck his hand under his head and curl his fingers into Dean's thigh. Sometimes he thought about how sad other people must be. Dean said that not very many people got a friend like him, and Sam thought that was really sad. "I'm lucky I have you, Dean." Sam nestled down into the couch.

Looping an arm around Sam's shoulders Dean nodded and held him close. "Yeah Sammy, I'm lucky to have you too." He leaned down to press a kiss to the top of Sam's head before turning back to peer at the TV, content with the way things were at the moment.

-=-=-=-

For his thirteenth birthday Sam wanted to go and see _The Craft_. He knew the witch stuff would probably all be wrong but he had kind of a crush on Neve Campbell. He got caught up in birthday fun, after all, he didn't become a teenager every year and his birthday was on a Saturday too. He wasn't sure if his Dad was even listening when Sam asked if he could go to the movie, but he'd nodded and grunted something about being home by ten. Tom was going to pick Sam up at his place and then they were meeting Sharon and Liz at the movie theatre. Sam made sure he checked out ten times that it wasn't a date because he was very sure that he didn't want to date Sharon. _Still sure_.

The really strange part of the night began when Sam realized that he hadn't thought of Dean while he was walking to the theatre with Tom. Sure, Dean was there - he just trailed along behind them. Sam had to endure almost twenty minutes of Tom talking about Liz and how she French kissed and how Tom had _other_ things planned.

French kissing didn't sound all that great - in fact - it sounded kind of gross. But, Sam chalked it up to one of those things you have to experience to understand.

They found Liz and Sharon at the movie theatre and piled into the back row of seats carrying huge bags of popcorn and giant sodas. Of course, the girls wanted to sit beside each other so Tom and Sam were forced to sit away from each other.

That's when it hit Sam like a baseball bat right to the head. He knew it was like that because Sheldon Forth had accidently hit Sam in the forehead with one in third grade. Anyway, Dean was there, he wasn't by Sam's side. Sam's eyes grew wide in the darkened theatre as he searched the crowd for a familiar silhouette. Finally he caught sight of Dean wandering toward the front of the theatre.

And just like that things changed. Sam was laughing and having a good time, throwing popcorn and poking Sharon in the ribs. He felt guilty. Each time he saw Dean somewhere, sensed his presence, Sam felt the strangest combination of guilt and anger. There were parts of the movie that he wanted to laugh about; his first urge was to smile and look up for Dean and roll his eyes. It was strange and Sam wasn't sure he liked it.

That was the first night of many where things were strange and new.

As Sam grew, made friends, things changed almost imperceptibly between him and Dean. Dean was the same as he always was - he was still Sam's best friend but Sam felt so conflicted. He wanted to spend time with Dean, there were so many things he felt he could only tell Dean but being around other people - people who were _real_ and _not secret_ was different.

Sometimes, Sam got almost giddy with the idea of being able to share things with more than one person, teasing Tom about the way he liked Liz, bumping into each other in the hallways at school and laughing all the way to class.

For his fourteenth birthday, Sam didn't even discuss his plans with Dean. He was going out with some guys from school. Tom was the ringleader and had all kinds of crazy plans for them. Sam was, somehow, sure it would involve the girls in the end, and after all, Tom and Liz were kind of dating.

In the days leading up to his party Sam thought long and hard about Dean. They were quiet in their time at home together, went about their regular routine. Dean helped Sam with his homework, they watched Jaws on TV for the ninth time, Sam ordered pizza when his Dad was away and whispered his quiet complaints when his Dad was home and bossy.

As the day of his party grew closer Sam just blurted out one afternoon that he'd like Dean to stay home; that he wanted time with just his _real_ friends. The hurt look that flashed across Dean's face right before he smiled and said _of course_ scarred Sam's heart a little. That look set the tone for their friendship from that day forward. Sam had wanted to stride across the room on his coltish legs and snatch Dean up in a hug, give him one of those stupid kisses they still _practiced_. But he didn't because his teenage brain was angry that he had to feel so bad for wanting what everyone else had.

By the time he was finally at his birthday party, wondering whether Dean was there or gone somewhere else completely - he didn't really enjoy it. As he was walking home late that night and Dean was suddenly there at his side just as he always was, Sam ignored him. He went to bed for the first time in his entire life without having told Dean all the crazy details of his night. He'd thought somehow - it was punishment - making Dean feel bad because Sam felt bad - but the whole thing just backfired because Sam had never felt worse. When he finally fell asleep Dean was still sitting on the floor beside his bed and Sam's face was damp with silent tears.

The thing about life was that it just kept going forward. Sam's father left him alone for longer periods of time and by the time he had turned fifteen he was often alone in the house for as long as a week at a time.

Alone with Dean.

They still talked and sometimes they even had fun - conversations like they used to about crazy things that no one else would understand. Sam was caught full-on in a growth spurt, legs and arms everywhere and his back aching at the end of the day. Dean would sit with him at night and rub his sore muscles, soothe his aching bones with gentle hands. Sam would bristle when he felt like he wanted it - wanted Dean to touch him - and wait stubbornly until Dean just sat beside him and smoothed his hands over Sam's back. It was horrible to want something so much and be so angry about wanting it.

Sam had finally kissed Sharon and he was right, he hadn't liked it. The worst part was that it was nothing compared to the handful of kisses he'd _practiced_ with Dean. He had realized long ago that he wasn't like his friends, wasn't obsessed with girls and boobs and French kissing. He didn't like the way Sharon smelled; it was sickly sweet like bubble gum. He liked the way Dean smelled: fresh and clean, night air and the hint of coming snow. The only time he smelled it now was when he bumped into Dean in the hallway, when they passed too close together, when he pretended to be asleep and Dean would curl up against him. Sam's mind and heart were pulling him in different directions and he didn't know how to make it stop.

The last day of school before summer holidays was a blur. They finished early - the teachers looking almost as relieved as the students when everyone was snatching up their backpacks and emptying their lockers. Sam was so excited about summer, and no school and maybe even finally managing to repair the old bike he'd found that he ran all the way home. Busting through the front door of the house he spun around a few times until Dean was standing there and threw his backpack on the floor as he leapt forward and threw his arms around Dean's neck. "School's out," he yelled and squeezed Dean hard and he picked him up off the floor and spun in a circle. Letting Dean slide back down to the floor Sam peered down at him, blushing, not sure why he was suddenly so happy to see his friend.

Dean couldn't help but match Sam's bright smile, hands clutching at his waist and holding him there. "Finally! It felt like this school year was exceedingly long," Dean nodded. He knew it had little to do with the actual school issue, more to do with this strange cavern growing between them, but he voiced no opinion on the subject. "Should we celebrate?" Dean suggested, grin still wide.

"A bunch of the guys are going down to the park to play football." Sam's arms were still resting over Dean's shoulders so he felt the almost imperceptible drop of Dean's shoulders. He swallowed and his smile wavered momentarily. There it was again, that sadness tinged with guilt.

Looking down for a moment Dean wet his lips before forcing a smile on his lips and nodding, stepping back. More and more recently he'd felt this way, some part of him squeezing too tight and twisting uncomfortably until it felt like he could hardly breathe. Then Dean would remember he didn't need to breathe, didn't need to swallow or wet his lips, and this was exactly why he felt this way to begin with. Sam needed _people_ , Dean could never be that. "That should be fun," he offered and moved over to the couch, dropping down along the far seat where he spent most of his time now.

Sam's hands fell heavy to his sides and his eyes moved over to Dean where he had settled. "Or... maybe you and I could spend some time together." Sam cleared his throat and walked over to drop beside Dean on the couch. "If you wanted to, I mean. I don't need to play football." His hands curled over his knees, fingers nervous and fidgeting. He wanted to play football, but he wanted to stop the ache inside his chest too.

"Yeah?" Dean perked up slightly and looked over at Sam. He could see the mixture of emotions on his face, watched the way his fingers twitched along his jeans and he smiled sadly, shaking his head. "It's okay Sam. You can go play with your friends. I'm... well, you know. I'm always here. You can spend time with me whenever." Dean had never cried before but sometimes, recently, he wondered if he might experience it. Sometimes in the afternoon it would rain for hours and he stared out the window and wondered if the other angels out there were showing their understanding. "You go and have fun. I'll just wait here," Dean gave Sam a slightly more genuine smile, settling for wanting the boy's happiness more than anything else.

There was that pain again, _right_ where Sam's heart was - like a little stab and twist. "Fine." He pushed up off the couch torn between wanting to believe that Dean meant it and knowing he didn't. "I just thought you might want to for once." He bolted out of the living room, wanting to just get away from Dean before he embarrassed himself by crying. He wanted to be around Dean all the time, he thought about him, sometimes, it hurt so bad that Sam felt like he might really be bleeding somewhere inside. And then, Dean would just push him away like that and Sam thought maybe he was just crazy. Maybe they weren't friends like they used to be. Maybe it was right for Sam to be out with his school friends doing stupid shit - maybe that was what Dean wanted.

Slamming his bedroom door behind him Sam yanked his sweat damp t-shirt off and threw it against the wall. So far - it sucked being a teenager. Opening the top drawer of his dresser Sam tried to tug a clean t-shirt out, it got stuck, he yanked too hard and the drawer came right out in his hands. He fumbled it and dropped it on the floor. "Fuck," he yelled. He didn't swear a lot but Tom did and Sam thought maybe it was contagious. Giving the drawer a good swift kick Sam spun and flopped face down on his bed.

No matter what knowledge Dean gained with his years, the things magically bestowed to him to be a guiding life in Sam's like, nothing could help him with this. Maybe it was a phase, a thing, a time in which Dean wasn't meant to have the right answers. He would have stayed put on the couch, not knowing a better alternative, if Sam's loud swearing hadn't caught his attention. Like a flash he in the bedroom, standing at the end of Sam's bed and frowning. "Are you alright?" He asked quietly, knowing the answer was likely obvious even if he had no solution for it.

"No," Sam's voice trembled slightly, muffled by the pillow. Dean was the last person he wanted to talk to and the only person he wanted to talk to - and Sam was pretty sure his head was just going to blow up.

Slowly sitting down on the edge of the bed Dean sighed softly and reached out, laying a hand on Sam's back. "I don't know what to do," he admitted quietly, searching for what might be the right thing to say or do in this situation. "I'm trying to do what's best," he whispered, shifting a little closer tentatively.

"What's best for who?" Sam's head whipped around so he could see Dean. "I wish you'd never come here. I wanna be like Tom and not care if I'm away from home for hours, and, and, not worry that you're alone without me. Thinking about kissing you when that's not supposed to be what you think about when you're a fifteen year old guy." Sam sniffed and wiped at his face with the edge of the blanket. "Why do I have to be different?"

Dean was still stuck on the words _I wish you'd never come here_ , they sank through him like a heavy weight and he pulled his hand back slowly, laying it in his lap and staring down. "I was supposed to help you," he whispered, voice tight and thick. The words continued to echo hauntingly through him and he could feel his presence waver, like he was losing some grip on his being. "Some... some people... they don't see their guardian angels," Dean breathed the words, curling his fingers together slowly and wondering if the touch was fading. "I could be that way. I could... go away. You wouldn't see me unless you called for me." Dean forced himself to look over at Sam and his eyes felt wide and pricked with tears that could never be there. "Then you could be normal."

"Wh..what?" Sam pushed up off the bed until he was sitting behind Dean.

"If you ask me too, I don't have to be around," Dean could only describe what he was feeling as hollow, numb, and empty. But he pressed on. "I'd be... neither here nor there. Just... around. There if you needed me. Then maybe you could be like Tom and your other friends. And you wouldn't have to worry about me sitting here waiting." No, he'd just be somewhere else, waiting, but if it would settle Sam's mind, Dean would do it. No matter how much it pained him.

Sam's voice was soft, "No." That made everything hurt even worse. Sniffing again, wiping furiously at his eyes Sam turned slightly and slid his arms around Dean's waist, pressing his cheek against his friend's back. "You're my best friend." He shivered slightly, emotion wreaking havoc on his body even though it was already quite hot in the house. "Promise you won't leave," he whispered.

"Never, not unless I'm told to by you," Dean insisted and turned quickly around on the mattress, pulling Sam up into his arms and holding him like he hadn't in years. "I will always be with you; no matter what happens." He held tightly to Sam and breathed in that rich scent, musky and familiar, everything Dean knew about his Sammy. "Can I make this better?"

Sam gazed into Dean's eyes for a few moments. He had no idea how to make any of it better. What did he know? He was fifteen. None of the things in his head made sense and he couldn't even see how there'd be a time again when things were _normal_.

His eyes moved from Dean's eyes to his lips then back and Sam leaned forward just a little. "I want it to go back to like when we were kids - and there was nothing to worry about." The words were what he wanted to say but his voice sounded different, somehow like someone else's; deeper, different.

Sam licked his lips then pressed them to Dean's quickly. HIs fingers dug into Dean's back, lips parting just like they had when he'd kissed Sharon - but this was _so_ much better. This was why kissing her had been all wrong, because it didn't feel like this. There was a spark and burn, a tingling in his lips and that same feeling like all the air had been pulled out of the room.

Threading his fingers up into Sam's hair Dean sank into the tingling warmth that came whenever he found Sam's lips against his own. A small, pleased noise fell from his throat into Sam's mouth and he shifted back until he could spread out on the mattress, falling back slowly and pulling Sam down with him. He cupped along the back of Sam's head and parted his lips wider, enjoying the way something in his spirit seemed to vibrate and hum with pleasure. There had been many of these occasions, but not enough, and Dean would be lying to himself if he said he didn't want more. Slowly he inched his tongue forward like he saw in the movies, touching the inside of Sam's mouth curiously.

Shiver slowly becoming more of a tremble, Sam sank down into the warmth of Dean. He'd been avoiding touching him, shying away because he knew it was the one time he felt better, whole somehow, _not_ hurt. Pressing up against Dean's side, palm flat against his friend's chest, Sam heard himself make a strange sound. It was an almost whimper and his mouth opened wider so his tongue could slip forward to meet Dean's, shy, tentative. This was the way that a kiss should feel.

Sliding his tongue along Sam's Dean was hit with the oddest sense that he was floating. Like the two of them were caught in this one moment, time frozen around them as one gentle caress led to something heated and intense. Dean's body trembled slightly as he pulled Sam closer into him, kissing rougher, harder, allowing his tongue to travel along every inch of Sam's mouth. He pulled back a moment later when he felt Sam's chest quiver slightly against him, struggling for air. Some part of Dean, the part that wished this would never end, dipped forward to press his lips beneath Sam's ear, curious and slow.

Panting softly, Sam's fingers curled into the plain white material of Dean's t-shirt. It felt kind of like Dean's fingers were burning into his back and Sam felt his back arch a little, like his body wanted more and his brain didn't know how to get it. "Dean," he whispered as he dropped his lips to his friend’s hair. It was soft and smelled like Dean; clean, fresh rain and trees and fresh grass and sun-warmed hair all at once. _Dean_. He lifted a shaking hand to slide his fingers through the silky hair.

"Does that feel good?" Dean asked quietly, shifting down slightly to taste more of Sam's skin along his neck, teeth gently grazing. It was pleasant, even more so when Sam's body moved against him, and he felt again like they were floating, and lost in their own little world. "You taste like sunshine," he murmured and sucked along the pulse point in Sam's neck, feeling blood rushing beneath his tongue.

"Yes," Sam murmured. Good and so much more. Sam's body was reacting in ways he hadn't really expected. Like when he thought about sex during school and had to hold his books in front of his jeans when he walked down the hall; he was nervously, antsy, body twitching closer to Dean's. "I," he gasped as Dean's teeth sent a fresh wave of shivers sliding down his back. Just like Tom always bragged about, Sam's dick was getting hard and _God_ he didn't want to have to explain that to Dean.

Pulling back, smiling nervously Sam shifted so he was lying on his stomach next to Dean. "We should probably...” He didn't have much of an idea _what_ they should do or not do - but this was going to go from really good to really embarrassing _really_ quickly if Dean kept touching him like that.

His smile turned shy again and Sam dropped his gaze to his hands as they traced the design on his quilt. "Did you like that?"

That tingling heat was still bubbling through him and Dean wondered at the way his body was responding, unlike anything he had felt before. "Yes," he said quietly and laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling. "I liked that very much. Did you like that?" He asked curiously, shifting to the side until he could feel the heat of Sam's body against his side.

"Mhmm." Sam nodded and chewed on the inside of his cheek. He liked it a lot, too much. "I'm gonna just rest for a bit," and get rid of his hard-on - but he didn't add that. "You want to go to the lake with me after? I mean, if you want to?" Turning his head Sam pillowed it on his arm and inched forward again until his nose was barely touching Dean's arm.

"You know I do," Dean said through a small smile and turned toward Sam, looping an arm over his body. Maybe things would be better now. Dean hoped so.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam's step was light as he headed toward home. He'd aced the test Dean had helped him with - no more math to torture himself with for a few days; it was Friday and it was Sam's sixteenth birthday in four days. His Dad had said that he could test for his licence the morning of his birthday and Sam _knew_ he was going to pass and then he could take Dean driving and they could do all the things they'd talked about.

They'd settled into a tentative truce. Dean was around when Sam was at home, Sam tended not to see him when he was out with friends there were still times when he wanted nothing more than to spend an evening with Dean, curled up on the couch watching movies. Sometimes, he still stole a kiss or two - maybe more than he should. But it felt good and better than any of the girls he'd kissed. And what was really wrong with it? If Dean was an angel then it should be pretty innocent.

Twisting the door knob and nudging the door open with his hip Sam called out for his friend. "Dean!"

Sometimes Dean spent his day thinking about things other than Sam, like the world out there and a future unknown. Today was not one of those days however. He'd been waiting for the boy - almost a man - to show up for awhile now and he shimmered into visibility behind him and leaned forward. "Hello," he said against the back of his neck and grinned.

Laughing, Sam half jumped as he spun and threw an arm across Dean's shoulders. "I missed you today. Let's go down to the lake - that spot up past the old Oak where people are too lazy to go. We could swim? It's warm enough?" Excitement percolating in his chest he leaned in and kissed the corner of Dean's mouth. "Please?" Bouncing up onto his toes he smiled down into Dean's sparkling green eyes.

"Okay," Dean nodded, allowing his own excitement to grow from Sam's. "How'd it go today?" He asked curiously, waiting off to the side for Sam to set down his school stuff before they headed out.

"I aced the test." Sam grinned and shoved his hair back off his face. "You were awesome for helping me study." Sam stepped back over to Dean and grabbed him for a hug. Sam got teased at school for being _girly_ , he liked to hug and had learned over the years to save most of his affection for Dean. He couldn't help it - he was tactile. An entire youth full of comforting touch from Dean had made him almost crave it. Now, he was old enough to choose it.

Gathering Sam close Dean laughed happily and lifted him slightly from the ground. "I knew you could do it! Does this mean math is over? I _really_ don't care for it," he grinned as he set Sam back down and leaned back an inch. Dean lived for these moments, when the close friendship they'd always had felt warm and pleasant over his shoulders.

"For now yeah, that part sucked." Sam kicked his backpack out of the way and wandered into the kitchen to find something to drink. "I'll just grab a drink then we can go." There was a small bottle of water in the fridge and Sam snatched it up and stuffed it unceremoniously into the back pocket of his jeans. "Okay," he skidded to a halt just inside the kitchen and flipped the cupboard door open to rustle around for a few moment. The door closed and he appeared with a mouthful of cookie and four more in his hand. "Let's go," he mumbled.

Still chuckling softly, Dean followed Sam out of the house and down the trail to the lake. He listened with a wide, amused smile while Sam talked about his day - apparently there had been some food fighting in the cafeteria that he'd just managed to steer clear of before getting a hair full of spaghetti.

Dean adored the animated way Sam spoke, adored that these moments were just them. Even when Sam was with his friends, having fun and enjoying life, he was never quite as open as he was with Dean. It was a friendship and closeness built up over years and years, and it would always come down to this: Dean with his Sammy.

The lake surface was reflecting the sun, shiny bright beams sparking in all directions and Dean imagined he could hear the barely-there waves as the water rocked against the shore. When Sam was at school he remained in the house, often with his spirit just barely there, always reaching out for his charge should he be needed, ready to appear at his side in less than a heartbeat. So here, when he was certain Sam was safe and had no reason to worry, he allowed himself moments to enjoy the simplicity of the world, the way the cloudless sky shown down on them bright blue and large, seemingly never ending. For awhile Dean walked with his head tilted up, eyes closed against the sunshine until fingers brushed his and he smiled, turning his palm to take Sam's hand. "I can't believe you're going to be sixteen. I remember when you were just learning how to walk," Dean grinned brighter and dropped his head, opening his eyes to look at Sam.

"You've been there for everything," Sam murmured. The spring sun was warm on his hair and shoulders and he was looking forward to getting in the water. It would be cold he knew, he'd end up coming out of the water with chattering teeth and blue tinged lips and Dean would laugh. "Will you always go with me everywhere I go?"

"Yes," Dean said without hesitation. He'd lost track how many times Sam had asked him some variation of this question but he had no problem reassuring him. "You should have brought a towel," he pointed out and grinned, bumping his shoulder into Sam's. "My angelfu does not cover instant blowing drying."

"That's what the sun is for ya goof." Sam yanked his hand out of Dean's and tousled his friend's hair then took off down the path toward the lake. He was catching up with his body now, more at ease with his ever-increasing height and he wasn't as clumsy as he was the summer before. Leaping over a fallen log Sam's arms flew up and he glanced back to see how close Dean was. "No cheating - you run the whole way," he hollered.

"I wasn't going to cheat," Dean defended and scrunched up his nose because, yeah, he may have been about to do something that would fit into Sam's _cheating_ classifications. As the boy laughed, Dean took off after him. "And I'm not a goof!" He called, gaining on Sam and laughing when the boy double timed his speed, using his now longer legs to gain more distance. Even though Dean didn't need to breathe, his chest rose and fell heavily and he choked on a laugh as he tore after him.

Sam was laughing too hard and he stumbled as he got to the shore. He could hear Dean's footfalls behind him, knew he was getting closer so he spun and his hand snapped out to grab his friends arm and spin him in a wide arc that sent him straight out into the water.

It was a good thing Dean didn't require oxygen because the lungful of water he inhaled upon impact shot straight through him. He kicked up to the surface and sputtered, shaking his head roughly. "Jerk," he muttered with no heat behind the word, laughing as he darted forward, jumping out of the water and tackling Sam around the middle, giving him just a moment to gather himself a lungful of air before plunging him down into the lake.

The water was cold and Sam's chest ached but he was still smiling even as he felt the pressure of the deeper water. Letting his arms move slick and fast around Dean's legs Sam crawled up his friend's body and wrapped his legs around his waist. He panted in a few deep breaths, arms tossed casually over Dean's shoulders and then his body shifted and his smile softened a little. "Not many more summers like this one that's coming." His tongue darted out to lick at the droplets of water that were on his bottom lip.

"No," Dean said softly, not really a question. It seemed best to not think about that now though. "We'll make it great," he insisted and wrapped his arms around Sam's waist, bobbing easily in the water. "Tell me again about your birthday night, what are the plans?" Dean grinned, knowing he'd made Sam tell him about the event at least half a dozen times. It made him happy to hear Sam's excitement as he spoke about it.

"Well," Sam grinned and lifted a hand to smooth Dean's wet hair back from his forehead, "I'm going to have my licence because I will pass my test. Then you and I are going to drive to Kansas City so we can look around and do stupid shit like find some amusement park or something dumb like that. We're gonna listen to music all the way there and Dad will never notice 'cause he's leaving again right after I get my license." Sam's voice wavered a little when he mentioned his Dad but the bright side was - his Dad leaving on a hunt would mean that Sam could drive the car. "We'll have fun right?" Sam's eyes brightened again thinking of spending that much time alone with Dean.

Lips curved up into his lingering grin, Dean nodded swiftly. "Loads of fun." The last two birthdays, three even, Dean hadn't really been included in the celebrations. He was glad he was being given the chance now. Apparently turning sixteen was a big deal, Dean didn't quite understand but he knew Sam was really excited about being able to drive on his own. "Hey, hold your breath," Dean smirked and Sam blinked for a moment before Dean's hands tucked under his arms and launched him back across the lake surface, arching high up through air before he splashed down, creating waves in a ripple effect.

Sam smiled as crashed through the water and then let himself float up on the surface as he swirled his hands beside him in the water. "Dean, we could stay over in Kansas city- I could take one of those credit cards Dad leaves for emergencies. They're not his anyway." Sam swam shallower until he could sit on the lake bottom and watched his friend's face.

"Like in a motel?" Dean asked curiously and swam up to Sam's side, settling beside him. "Maybe that would be good. In case you want to stay out late. Since I can't drive us home if you're tired or something," he chuckled softly and shifted over until his side was flush against Sam's, arm wrapping behind him and digging into the gravel layered sand. "I promise not to tell your Dad," he teased and laughed, head dropping down to Sam's shoulder.

"Yeah, do you think I could pass for eighteen? I think you have to look older to get a room." Sam turned so he could press his lips to Dean's forehead then licked the lake water off his own lips. "I think it will be fun. And," he hesitated for a few moments, hands floating in front of him in the water, "there's no one I'd rather spend my birthday with." His heart skipped a few beats because he knew it was true - but he didn't normally say things like that out loud.

Dean's heart fluttered, that warm little fuzzy thing he felt in his chest in special moments like this, and he smiled softly, head dipping down with a pleased blush. "I think you could pass as eighteen. You're pretty tall." He looked back up at Sam and leaned in until their foreheads rested together. "There's no one else I'd rather spend your birthday with either," he pointed out, flashing a bright grin before pressing a quick kiss to Sam's lips.

"Do you think things will be different when I'm sixteen? It seems like a really big deal." Sam turned to look out over the surface of the lake, shielding his eyes from the sun.

Lifting his shoulders in a slight shrug, Dean pulled back and turned his head up to the sky, shoulder resting against Sam's. "I don't think so. Not right away or anything. Everyone's always different right? It's just a general changing thing."

"And what happens as I grow up? You ever gonna tell me why you're really here?" Sam let Dean's body take his weight, _comfort_. Sam knew there was more to all of this, the fact that Dean was there - an angel - a _real_ angel had to mean that there was something happening that Sam needed help with.

"I imagine when I know, you'll know," Dean said softly and laid his head against Sam's, still tilted up to the sky. Not often did Dean let his mind wander down this path, choosing to shy away from the unfamiliar and linger in the comfort of now, but he knew Sam's tendency for questions. It rubbed off on him. "You must be someone very special," Dean murmured in a half whisper, soaking up the warm sunshine on his skin.

"You too then." Sam grinned and splashed some water up into Dean's face. Turning slowly he studied his friend's face, he looked just like Sam's other friends, skin colored like he was healthy, eyes sparkling, and freckles. "Why does an angel have freckles?" Sam's finger lifted to smooth across his friend's damp skin as though testing how permanent the little marks of colour were.

"How do I keep getting older as you do?" Dean countered and smiled at Sam, shrugging. "Why do my clothes keep changing? Why do I breathe when I don't have to? How do you make my heart race and my cheeks color?" They did that, flushing with red, as he said the words and his gaze dropped, tongue sliding along his lips. "I try not to ask too much about it because I don't think I'll ever have an answer and it always makes me think of _other_ questions."

"Are questions bad?" Sam turned in the water so that he was leaning across Dean's lap.

"Maybe some questions," with another shrug he settled one hand in Sam's hair and the other on his chest. "Think about it, there are questions you probably don't want the answer to." When Sam looked curiously up at him Dean grinned slyly. "Like... if your Dad has a sex life."

"Gross, uncalled for dude." Sam's nose wrinkled up and he scowled.

"Don't think I don't know you're changing the subject. Sam drifted closer to Dean's chest. Reaching down Sam grabbed the water stretched hem of his t-shirt and wrestled his way out of it then tossed it up on the shore. "People don't swim in clothes usually." Sam smiled and raised his eyebrows. Of course, he was still wearing his jeans - but then he hadn't thought about it on the way in into the lake.

Chuckling softly Dean shook his head, "no, I don't suppose they usually do." Reaching down Dean tugged at his own shirt and sent it to join Sam's. "Of course, I'm not sure I have to worry about wet clothes or not. Even though I've been around for sixteen years I still don't quite get this angel thing," he smiled at Sam before scratching along his chest slowly. "Do you think I can die?"

Sam's heart clenched in his chest. "Don't say things like that. No," he said softly. "No, I... no - not an angel." Sam slid his fingers over Dean's shoulder. "You and I will be together a long time, right?" His voice was a little hesitant.

Looking at the hand on his shoulder, Dean smiled slowly and nodded. "Like I always say, I'm here until you tell me not to be." His eyes lifted up to Sam and his smile dimmed slightly. "Those are the types of questions I'd rather not ask. In case you were wondering." For a minute or two they sat in silence before Dean lurched forward and dragged Sam back out into the lake, deciding to put an end to the serious note of their conversation.

-=-=-=-

When Sam was three years old he had an obsession with push-up pops, the kind with the cardboard cylinder filled with sugary sweet substance and the plastic stick beneath that slowly moved up as he finished his treat. Dean used to watch him eat them: orange sherbet rings forming over neon dyed lips, forming sticky smears along chubby cheeks, and he'd laughed every time Sam offered to share.

Even as a little boy Sam had been amazing, willing to give up his swing after one wistful glance from a child across the playground or following his father's requests to play quietly while he was taking care of business on the line.

Sam had never really stopped being amazing, Dean had simply stopped being surprised. For the most part. Sometimes there were moments when he would find himself watching the boy and marvelling at all the little complexities that made him who he was.

This was certainly one of those moments. Dean rested against the passenger door, legs pulled up on cool leather, eyes fixed on Sam behind the steering wheel. He looked so very grown up, fingers curled around the steering wheel, sunglasses balanced along the bridge of his nose, hair carefully in place though Sam had spent almost an hour in front of the mirror trying to make it look anything but arranged. After a while, Sam, who was probably aware of him staring for miles now, glanced his way and laughed, insisting there were much more interesting things outside the window. Dean didn't agree. There would never be anything more interesting than his Sammy.

He was fairly certain this feeling didn't come simply because he'd been made for Sam specifically. If there was one thing Dean had learned as the years passed, and actually _learned_ , not magically known one day, it was the level he underestimated his ability to _feel_.

When it came to Sam, there was a strong drive to protect, to hold close and comfort whenever the world became too much, to answer questions and offer helpful tips. But there was more too, something beyond him and the being he was made to be. There was an almost tangible tether weaving them together into something permanent and everlasting.

It was a forty five minute drive to Kansas City and despite Sam's protest; Dean didn't turn his gaze away. They didn't make much conversation along the drive, comfortable in each other's presence, speaking through the occasional brief touches and quick glances. Dean didn't even complain when Sam played some of the more popular songs his friends at school liked, even if he enjoyed something a little older.

When they arrived in Kansas City, Sam spotted a mini-golf place and Dean lingered along the back wall as Sam paid for the rental of two golf clubs and two balls, one blue and one green. The woman gave him a strange expression and Dean laughed the entire way to the first hole, even when Sam pushed into his side and tried to fight off the blush lingering on his cheeks. Sam was pretty good about including him in things when he could. In the end Sam beat Dean, but only because Dean had never played before and it was a weird sort of drain on his energy to grasp the club and swing it across the green.

Sam was having a blast. He was being far more relaxed about interacting with Dean than he would be normally; he figured no one in Kansas City knew who he was so it didn't matter if they thought he was crazy. Besides, he was a little crazy.

Driving away from the Mini Golf place Sam saw a hot dog vender and yanked the steering wheel to drive across two lanes of traffic to park so he could get lunch. When he returned to the car after a brief trip he had a cold soda and a huge hot dog that was covered in ketchup. He smiled sadly and told Dean that he wished Dean could share with him. The concept of nothing being _better_ than a wagon hot dog seemed lost on Dean.

Their next stop was a movie; a suitably silly looking horror movie. Sam bought popcorn, ju jubes and a huge soda. Dean commented that he'd never seen Sam eat so much. Sam wasn't really hungry but he'd been saving up his money and wanted to do all the things he never normally got to do. They whispered and laughed during the movie; it really was horrible, but having Dean there made it entertaining none-the-less. There was even a part where some guy jumped out from behind a door and Dean jumped which gave Sam a serious case of the giggles for the remainder of the movie. With junk food shrapnel all around him Sam leaned over so he could rest his head on Dean's shoulder and hooked his ankle around his friend’s. It was the best way to watch a bad movie.

After the movie Sam felt the need to shake off some of the food stewing in his stomach before slipping into a food coma so they drove the car to a parking lot and set off to explore downtown Kansas City.

Generally, Sam's Dad didn't make a point to go to overly large cities, it was normally the smaller ones were cases could be found, so Dean found himself marvelling at the sheer height of the sky scrapers that made up giant shadows in the setting sun. He lost himself in the awe for some time until he glanced at Sam and realized the man kept shooting him weird looks. Then he realized he'd been walking _through_ people and to Sam that had to look really weird.

He laughed, amused, because Sam had never seen him around so many people before and therefore didn't realize how it would work, and slid in closer to him, taking his hand and leaning in to be heard over the street noise. "I'm assuming you're not hungry; if you are, you're _crazy_. So... how are we spending the evening?" Dean was incredibly happy, more than he ever could remember being, and he grinned contentedly at Sam.

"I think we should find a motel room and watch some movies." Sam had a plan. Tom had been going on and on about how he'd watched a porno when he'd been staying alone in his parent’s motel room last summer. Sam was determined to find out if it were true. He squeezed Dean's hand in his, "Tom said there are movies you can rent on your TV. We could-" he broke off and hummed thoughtfully.

"Okay," Dean nodded and smiled, squeezing Sam's hand before glancing at him once more. "What?"

"I was gonna say we could get beers and watch dirty movies, but you can't drink so I'll just pick up some soda on the way to a motel." Sam smiled weakly, "I'm feeling a little queasy." He shook his head as they turned around and started strolling back in the direction of the car. "You're not gonna disappear tonight are you?"

"Where would I go?" Dean asked in mild confusion, settling his hand low on Sam's back and rubbing slowly. Then the rest of Sam's words sank in and his face scrunched up slightly. "Dirty movies? You mean like... we're gonna watch _porn_?" Dean blinked in mild disbelief, free hand wrapping around Sam's body so he walked slightly behind him and rubbed along his stomach soothingly like he used to do when Sam was younger.

Smiling, Sam looked down so his hair would fall forward and cover his face. "Well, if you don't want to, it's okay - I just thought we could look. See what it was like. You know - like we practiced kissing. It's an experiment." Sam kept his voice low, trying to remind himself that other people couldn't see Dean. He had to admit, after all the things Tom had said he was pretty curious about what the movies would be like.

"An experiment," Dean repeated and rested his head on Sam's shoulder, letting himself float along behind him in this weird way he'd never been able to explain but always been able to do. "Okay," he finally said and circled his fingers slowly over Sam's stomach. "We can do that. After you get a soda." Dean felt that weird little warmth growing in him once more and he smiled into Sam's shoulder. "Boy dirty movies or girl dirty movies?" He asked curiously, what seemed like a logical question to him.

"What?" Sam's ears were starting to turn pink. He could feel it.

"Well... are we going to watch videos with just boys in them? Or with girls in them too?" Dean clarified and slid to the side to walk beside Sam once more.

"I," Sam swallowed, mouth suddenly feeling very dry. "I hadn't really thought about it - didn't think there would be separate ones. Guess that makes sense," he mumbled. "Boys, guys - I think. What do you think?" Back to _that_ game again.

"Um... I don't know?" Dean glanced at him though he was fairly sure he would like just the boy ones more. He still hadn't given much thought to girls, not since kissing Sam. "Maybe they have previews or something," he turned to Sam and slowly grinned. "I think people are starting to wonder why your face is so red."

"It's you," Sam hissed even though his expression was still amused. "Stop talkin' about it." Laughing softly Sam tugged hard on Dean's hand. "Let's go find a motel."

Laughing in agreement Dean allowed Sam to pull him down the sidewalk back to the car lot where they'd parked. They drove out of downtown, deciding that even though the nice hotels would be cool, they'd probably give more attention to Sam's age. In the end they chose a motel along the outskirts of town that certainly looked questionable. Dean paced nervously along the sidewalk while Sam went inside to get a room, deciding it was better if Dean not be there to throw him off in any way. The minute he stepped out of the main office Dean snapped to his side, eyes slightly wide. "So did you get us a room?"

Sam had tried to look sad and discouraged but he couldn't keep it up when he saw Dean's expression. "Dude, you look all nervous." Sam busted out laughing and grabbed Dean's hand to drag him down the front walk of the Motel to a room on the far end. "I told him I wanted to get a good night's sleep." Sam grinned and stopped in front of door number fifteen. The keychain jangled against the door as Sam twisted it in the lock then he pushed the door open. The room smelled a little stale but it looked pretty clean.

Grinning brightly Dean followed him into the room and looked around with still slightly wide eyes. "Is it weird I feel very... independent? Maybe you're projecting or something. I'm picking up your teenage rebellion vibes," Dean grinned and threw his arm over Sam's shoulder, dragging him into the room.

Tossing his bag down onto the floor Sam jumped and did a dive onto the bed. It smelled kind of like bleach but he supposed that was okay considering the alternative. "We _are_ independent. I'm sixteen." Sam grinned like an idiot and fluffed up the pillows on the bed.

"Yeah and I'm..." Dean scrunched up his face and shrugged. "Older than sixteen." He flopped down on the bed beside Sam and grinned, turning to look at him. "Alright Mr. Independent, how does someone so grown up and mature spend their time?" He laughed, thinking about the _dirty movie_ conversation from before. It didn't sound very grown up.

"I'm actually not sure." Sam started to laugh. "Same as we do at home, I guess? Only we can pretend we're like, you know, twenty - real old!" Flopping his arm over Dean's waist Sam slipped his fingers under his friends t-shirt. "We can have a big, serious, grown up, old people conversation if you want." Fingers moving softly over Dean's smooth stomach Sam looked up at him.

Catching his lower lip between his teeth Dean looked down at Sam's hand moving before slowly dragging his eyes up to the boy's. "A big, serious, grown up, old people conversation about what?" He asked slowly, wetting his lips to smooth out the imprint from his tooth digging into the flesh.

"I dunno what do they talk about? Politics? Religion? Or are those the things we're _not_ supposed to talk about?" Sam's voice was softer, his eyes closed as he relaxed. "God we walked a lot today," he grimaced as he stretched out his back. "How many miles do you think?"

"A lot," Dean shrugged and nudged at Sam with curled fingers. "Want a massage? Even though I don't think you like my massages very much," he chuckled softly and scrunched his nose up until he was barefoot and in boxers and a loose t-shirt, settling in for something much more comfortable. "All those things sound pretty boring. To talk about I mean. Let's not have adult conversations."

"Why would you think I don't like them?" Sam jumped slightly when he opened his eyes to find Dean in different clothes. It still surprised him every now and again. Sitting up he stretched his arms up over his head and shrugged out of his jean jacket, then scooted over to the edge of the bed so he could stand. Tossing the jacket over a chair he pulled his t-shirt off and slipped out of his jeans after kicking off his shoes. Padding over to the window he pulled the curtain back to check on the car; Sam really loved that car. "I hope when I'm older I can have my own car like that. You think Dad might give her to me?"

"In a heartbeat," Dean said without hesitation, smiling brighter. "Why do you think he bought the truck?" So maybe Dean did a little investigating, or well, eavesdropping when the older Winchester was home and Sam was at school. It had settled the slight worry he always carried about how much the father cared for his son. "He's really proud of you. _I'm_ really proud of you." Dean's smile softened and he dropped his eyes down to his bare legs.

"You really think he is?" Sam wasn't always so sure of that. Heading back to the bed he flopped down again beside Dean. "Sometimes, I think I kind of disappoint him." Tucking his hands under his head, Sam spread out on the bed.

Curling into Sam's side Dean slowly shook his head. "You don't. He is proud of you. He thinks you've somehow managed to grow up amazingly even though he's hardly ever around. It's true, you have grown up amazingly." Dean chuckled softly and laid his hand on Sam's chest.

"That's because of you," Sam said without the slightest hesitation. "I know how much you did for me. When I look back - I maybe didn't know then but I know now. All my memories are filled up with you. You picking me up when I fell, you finding my favourite stuffed frog when I lost him, first day of school, everything Dean." Sam smiled as his eyes moved over the ceiling.

"I'm glad I got to share them with you," Dean said softly and dipped forward to press a kiss to Sam's cheek. "You're my favourite person," he informed and smiled, slightly shy, cheeks filling with that familiar warmth he couldn't explain.

"Thanks for today, Dean." Sam shifted closer, licking his lips nervously as he slid his hand further up Dean's body. "I couldn't have had this much fun with anyone else. It's never the same." And it wasn't. Sure there were things that Sam couldn’t do with Dean - like play on a baseball team or go drinking but this was better. There wasn't another person on the face of the earth Sam could speak to the way he spoke to Dean.

"I'm glad to be here," Dean informed and smiled wider, tucking into Sam's side and curling around him. It was a warm and familiar place to be and he treasured it. "Best birthday ever?" He suggested and grinned. "Though that Chuck E. Cheese place when you turned six was quite entertaining."

"Dude, we totally should have gone there today." Sam laughed softly. "You want to kiss?" He kind of blurted it out and honestly, he'd been thinking about it most of the day. It might have even been why he had wanted to get a Motel room and stay the night with Dean. Just for one night they could pretend like this was real - like Dean was real and everything was normal. "Or," Sam blinked a few times, nervous, "we could watch some TV."

"I want to kiss," Dean reassured him, body pre-emptively tingling in sensation just thinking about the warm flutter that began whenever Sam's lips touched his.

His tongue smoothed out across his lips, mimicking Sam's, and then he shifted closer, laying almost half on the boy and hovering above him. "I really like the kissing thing," he pointed out, smiling in a flash before descending down to rest his lips over Sam's, tilting his head to the side so their noses didn't bump.

Sam had been about to say something else and then his arms were full of Dean, his body pressed down into the mattress and his mouth sliding across the silky lips that he'd missed.

Sam loved kissing Dean. It made his heart beat faster, and his skin felt like he'd been sitting outside too long in the sun. Moving his fingers in gentle flutters along Dean's back, Sam felt muscles moving under flesh. _Not like an angel_. He parted his lips quicker this time, knowing now that it made the kiss better and maybe Dean would slide his tongue forward again. Sam's cheeks felt like they were on fire, burning their way across his face.

Dean had been doing some research. Or more accurately, he'd sent a silent question to whatever being was out there looking in on him and gathered the knowledge required. With that in mind he took his time exploring Sam's lips, learning that a sweep of his tongue forward made Sam's heart race faster, and if their tongues met Sam would shift up slightly, a silent request for more. He traced along every inch of Sam's mouth slowly, the soft silk then warm rough of teeth, the faint bumps along his tongue. Dean pressed more firmly down into him, sliding slightly until his legs dropped between Sam's and there was nothing but flaring heat and firm muscle beneath him, moving ever so slightly up.

Sam lost himself in the gentle movements of Dean's kisses. It felt like the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground was Dean with the weight of his body. Emboldened by the lasting excitement of the day, Sam sucked gently on Dean's tongue and pulled it deeper. The slick sensation of their tongues entangling sent little darts of pleasure shooting through Sam's body. His body was moving in little jerks and shudders, unaccustomed to the intensity of the sensations that flooded through him. Curious fingers slid over Dean's back, pulling him down tighter, harder. _God_.

There was no way to track time as they kissed and Dean savoured that. His fingers slid into Sam's hair and curled there, holding steady and tilting Sam's head back just enough to get a new angle for his tongue to sweep across. When he eventually pulled back Sam was panting and so was Dean, out of habit alone. His lips felt swollen and pleasantly numb, every part of him felt _alive_. He stayed in the space between Sam's legs, lips brushing in occasional passes in between a soft murmur of the boy's name.

Sam's lashes fluttered a few times, "I like the way your skin feels." He pressed his lips together as though he wished he could pull the words back - because they seemed too much. Palms dragging down over Dean's back, Sam felt the subtle dip of the small of his friend’s back, and then his fingers brushed the waistband of Dean's boxers. Biting down hard on his bottom lip Sam stared into Dean's eyes.

Sliding his hand down from Sam's hair Dean touched along the curve of the boy's jaw, sliding over his skin slowly. "I think your skin is more real than mine," Dean pointed out in a quiet whisper and his body moved forward slightly. He could feel the heat of Sam's fingers low on his body and he moaned softly, surprised by the noise, surprised as he realized his body was _responding_ to these touches. "Sam... you make me _feel_ ," he breathed, fingers continuing to move along soft and smooth skin.

"Feel?" Sam almost whispered, afraid that Dean would stop, move, and change his mind. Moving his leg slowly he pulled his foot up on the bed and let his leg lean against Dean's thigh. He shifted his hips a little, couldn't help it then and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

Swallowing in what would have been a nervous habit Dean nodded slowly. "Can you, can you _feel_?" He whispered the words and shifted his hips slightly so his body could press against Sam's thigh. He hadn't anticipated the rocking feeling low in his body, the way it shot pleasure up his spine. "Oh," he exhaled slowly and blinked down at Sam, repeating the action to test it. "Am I supposed to feel like this?" Confusion settled in over him, but it couldn't suppress the warmth and heat that caused his hips to move again.

Moaning softly Sam's hand fluttered down and he swallowed hard as they settled over Dean's ass. "I. yeah," _oh, he could feel it._ Dean's dick was hard, just as hard as Sam's was and every time his friends hips rolled down, Sam's body jolted again.

"De-an," the name broke in the middle as Sam's body bowed up slightly off the bed. "Yes," Sam sighed. "It's s..supposed to feel like this." Sam could feel sweat breaking out on his forehead; he strained to hold still, half-terrified and half exhilarated.

As Sam moved up into him Dean's body responded in turn, rocking down to meet the pressure. "What-" he gasped slightly as the hard line of his arousal slid against Sam's through clothing.

”What do I do now?" Dean had a vague knowledge of physical needs, knew Sam disappeared in the bathroom in the morning, sometimes in the evening too, to take care of them but it wasn't something he thought he was capable of. "Sam," he moaned, dragging the word out as his forehead rolled down against Sam's, lips brushing slowly.

"I," Sam cleared his throat, "you move, rub, I could-" Sam panted, hands shaking as his nails dragged unconsciously across the cotton of Dean's boxers. Hips rolling up against his friend's body, Sam buried his face in the crook of Dean's shoulder. Squeezing his eyes shut against the thoughts that were battering their way through his brain. _Stop, move, more, God_.

Sliding his arms under Sam's shoulders Dean gathered him close and held him there as his hips rocked steadily forward. There was too much material between them, too many layers of clothing but it was still enough to make little jolts of pleasure spark up his skin. "Sam," he gasped as a leg hooked around his body, pulling him closer still. Dean's hands settled back along Sam's neck, bringing him in so their lips could meet once more. This kiss was so different from the ones before, more intense and heated, tongues meeting and clashing in firm sweeps.

Sam felt like he might be going a little crazy. Dean's kisses were insistent, urgent like it was more important than it had ever been.

Sam gave back what he got, tongue sliding forward into the heat of his best friend's mouth. He could barely breathe, couldn't get his chest to work the way it was supposed to - like he'd forgotten how to do everything. Forgotten everything except the way it felt when his hips pressed up into Dean's body. It was more than when he jerked off, better, different - _so_ different. Like somehow that wasn't real and his body was just pretending. Now, there were feelings everywhere, tingling, aches, pressure - his muscles tightened across his abs and he dragged his mouth across Dean's cheek to his ear and breathed, "it's okay."

The words seemed to ripple down through him, swirl and clench around parts of his being Dean wasn't even aware could respond like this. It was all at once too much and not enough and Dean's hips seemed to pick up intensity, move harder and more determined. Then Sam's lips were against his skin, solid and flaring and something uncurled within him. Dean might have flashed, a spark of light, _something_ he couldn't control as his muscles seemed to quiver, bunch together and release all at once. "S-Sammy," he moaned in shocked surprise as his body jolted against Sam's, eyes slamming shut, shoulders shaking.

Sam's body shook as his hips snapped up and it seriously felt like his balls were going to explode. He was pretty certain that his heart stopped, Sam lurched up off the bed and came. He was clinging to Dean, breath leaving his mouth in small moans and whimpers; never before had he felt like that. It was like his insides were all messed up and were shifting to get back in the right spot. The warm dampness was spreading across the front of his boxers as his hips rolled slower, leg still tight over Dean's.

"Whoa," Dean said after awhile, slumped against Sam's body, head buried in his neck. He pushed up slowly and stared down at Sam, head tilted to the side slightly. "Can we do that again sometime?" He asked curiously, familiar and pleasant warmth bubbling along his veins.

Sam threw his head back, stretching out his neck to try and suck more air into his lungs. He was a little embarrassed, abs still clenching every so often as his body tried to settle back to normal. Instead of trying to speak Sam pressed his swollen lips to Dean's temple, holding them there as his chest settled into a more normal rhythm.

After a while Dean moved because it didn't seem like Sam's breath had returned to normal yet. He rolled onto his side and pulled Sam in, smiling softly. "My clothing is sticky," he informed Sam and chuckled softly, lips sliding across Sam's forehead. "Sammy? Can I tell you something?"

"Mhmm," Sam's voice was still thick and rough. _Morning after the football game_ rough. Lashes falling slowly to his cheeks he nodded slowly, fingers ghosting over Dean's neck. Sam's boxers were sticky and wet too - but _hell_ \- it was worth it.

Dean just smiled for awhile, enjoying the moment, until he realized he'd started a thought and hadn't finished it. "I love you Sammy," he said quietly and squeezed him, knowing it was true with all his heart.

Sam felt himself relax. That was Dean's smile - the one Sam had seen his whole life. "I've always loved you, Dean." Sam's brow furrowed over his growing smile as though he was shocked to think he may never have said it before. "Always have." Grinning, Sam messed up Dean's hair and shoved him off to the side. "I'm gonna clean up." Giving himself a few more moments to calm down, Sam shifted to the edge of the bed. Leaning down he picked up his bag and unzipped it - pulling out some clean shorts and then headed to the bathroom.

Pushing up on the bed, Dean's eyes fell closed for a moment and when he opened them his clothes were clean, no traces of what had transpired left. He slid toward the edge of the bed and dropped his feet down onto the carpet, eyes tracing along the non-pattern on the wall. "I hope this is okay," he said aloud to no one, a habit he'd picked up in the past few years since he'd stopped going to school with Sam. "Maybe someone could tell me that," Dean looked up toward the ceiling, blinking slowly.

Sam leaned against the bathroom door for a few minutes after he closed it. He felt a little weird; what if he wasn't supposed to do things like that? What if Dean changed his mind about being friends with Sam? He really wished he could talk to his Dad sometimes - about things like sex, like boys, but he could just imagine the look on his Dad's face if he brought that up.

Turning toward the mirror Sam snatched a washcloth off the towel rack and turned the taps on until the water ran hot. Kicking out of his soiled boxers he washed his dick, cleaning up the come that was already so cool against his flesh.

He glanced up at the mirror again thinking he should some look different. It was sort of like having sex; it was getting off while someone else was touching him. Leaning over the sink he blinked at his reflection. Apart from his hair standing on end and his lips still looking a little swollen he still looked the same.

Tossing the used washcloth into the sink Sam dried off, peed and stepped into his clean boxers. It was funny, he'd never worried about being around Dean before but he was actually a little nervous. Yanking the door open Sam walked into the room and straight over to the TV. Grabbing the remote he dropped down onto the edge of the bed. "You wanna watching something?"

"Sure," Dean nodded and instantly slid into Sam's side, arm wrapping around him slowly. "One of those dirty movies still? Or have we already covered that?" He smiled slightly and squeezed Sam tightly. "Are you okay?" He asked, sensing that something was slightly off in Sam.

Sam looked down at the remote in his hands, twisting it slowly, finger pressing too lightly on all the buttons. "It's just a bit weird. Don't want things to change." Sam's shoulder sagged a little, he was glad of the warmth of Dean's arm. "Don't you think it's a little scary?"

"No," Dean admitted honestly and laughed softly when Sam looked at him. "I don't scare easily you know? I think it's different. And I didn't think I could... but then. Sometimes, I don't really know what I am. I mean, I know what I'm _meant_ to be. But I think," Dean sighed and tilted his head until it rested against Sam's, smiling briefly. "I don't think guardian angels are supposed to feel this way about their charges. But if it were wrong, someone would stop me. Tell me. Not... let me know about things. Like kissing." Dean shrugged, treading on unfamiliar ground as far as explaining this new thing went.

"Yeah?" Sam nodded and tucked his hair behind his ear. "Yeah," he said more firmly. "That kinda makes sense." Sucking in a deep breath he felt a little of the tension leave his body. "We're still good then, right?" He blinked, still staring down at the remote.

"Always," with a swift nod Dean dipped forward and pressed his lips to the corner of Sam's mouth, smiling there for a moment before turning back to the TV. "So, what shall we watch? Crappy horror movies? Or your personal favourite, romance comedies?" Dean teased Sam easily, smiling brightening into a wide grin, pleased to be here in this moment with the one person who mattered to him.

Laughing Sam slugged Dean in the thigh before pushing up off the bed. Grabbing his jeans, he stepped into them and pulled them up over his hips. "First, I'm gonna go get some ice for my soda. It's gonna be nasty and warm." Standing, Sam picked up the ice bucket off the table and sniffed it suspiciously before opening the door. "Be right back," he said and headed out into the darkness.

"Hey." A voice called from the darkness, just out of eyesight in the shadows.

Sam looked around, and then squinted, trying to see who was there. "Hello?"

A harsh laugh echoed through the dark for a moment before cutting off abruptly. "You. You're _him_. Sam Winchester in the flesh. Never thought I'd see the day - or night, so it is." The voice thickened and solidified as a man stepped from shadows to pale yellow light from the lamp hanging overhead.

"What?" Sam took a step back, bare feet moving slowly on the still sun-warm concrete. "Do you... do you know my Dad?" Sam took another step, free hand reaching out behind him to feel for the wall.

Another brief laugh then a slight head dip in confirmation. "You could say John and I are acquainted. We go _way_ back. He might even be looking for me, maybe. But he never looks hard enough. If he'd just let you out of the house more often then I'd be right under his nose." The man slid forward and his solid colored eyes caught the light and glistened.

Sam's heart jolted in his chest running cold blood through his veins. Yellow eyes. He'd never seen a demon, certainly not _this_ demon but his Dad had told him about him.

"You," Sam murmured. "Why are you here? What do you want?" The ice bucket clattered to the ground and Sam stumbled backwards until his shoulder connected with the wall.

"Should be obvious Sam. I want _you_ ," the man stepped closer and grinned, feral and dark. "Did you really think you didn't have some greater purpose in all of this.”?

"Sam!" Dean hollered moments before he flickered into being beside Sam, arm instinctively shielding across the boy, head turned toward the demon. " _You_. Leave."

The demon recoiled and hissed. "Ah, a pretty little angel. Explains why I never can quite see you quite right. Cute. I'm gonna have to do something about you." His finger extended, circling in the air and jabbing toward Dean.

Shoulders tense, Dean looked Sam in the eyes, fingers digging into his jaw to break his shocked gaze from the demon. "Run to the room. Get your things. We have to leave _now_."

Blinking, Sam nodded slowly fingers almost reaching to curl over Dean's wrist before he suddenly flew into action and ran to the motel room door. He only stopped long enough to grab his shoes and jacket and stuff them in the bag before he was at the side of the Impala trying to stop his hand shaking long enough to get the key in the door.

Dean had been fixated on Sam, ensuring his safety, so he didn't hear the demon approach until hot sticky breath blew out along his neck and sent chills down his spine. "It's dangerous you know, when angels mess with mortality. Sticky little mess you're getting yourself into."

"You will never have Sam," Dean growled and stepped away, turning to keep him in his line of sight as he backed up to the car. "You'll never get past me."

The demon clicked his tongue and smiled unpleasantly, lip lifting along the edge in a hard smirk. "I know your face Dean. And angel or not, there's ways to get rid of you."

Dean didn’t stick around to hear what else the man might have to say. Once Sam slammed the car door shut he blinked, gone from the street and safely beside the boy in the car. "Drive." He instructed, eyes pinning on the demon and keeping him there until they'd left the parking lot and disappeared around a corner. Everything curling through Dean was haywire and ragged but he knew there would be safety back in Sam's home; the father was smart that way. "Are you okay?" He eventually asked once he was certain his distress wouldn't be clear by the tone of his voice.

"N...No," Sam reached out for Dean's hand. He was shaking so badly he was having trouble steering. "Why? Where did he come from? What's going on? His eyes kept darting to the rear view mirror like he was expecting to see those yellow eyes.

"Is he gonna follow us?" Sam squinted, fingers gripping Dean's so tightly his knuckles were white. "I gotta, I gotta stop and call Dad." Terror was something Sam had never experienced until those few moments in the dark.

"Sam," Dean whispered, calm and soothing as he slid across the seat and curled into Sam's side, blanketing him with warmth as much as he could. "You're safe with me. I promise. And you're even safer at home, so we need to get there. I... that demon... well. Let's talk about it when you're not driving okay? Tomorrow, we'll talk about it. And decide how to tell your Dad." Dean lifted a hand to cup along the side of Sam's neck, squeezing softly. "Now it's time to focus on driving. He's gone and he won't follow. Okay?"

"O..Okay." Sam's still trembling hand settled on Dean's thigh. "That was-" Sam swallowed. "I didn't do so well, I got scared." He smiled shakily and loosened his hand slightly on the steering wheel. Eyes darting up to the rear view mirror once more he glanced at Dean quickly. "You're sure? We're okay?"

A thousand questions raced through Dean's mind but this one he could answer easily. "Yes. I'm absolutely sure." He should have gone to Sam the minute he felt something was off and he kicked himself for not doing so.

Dean's eyes clenched closed and he sent a thought out to whoever was out there. _I need answers._ It was vague to say the least but Dean had a feeling the information he was requesting was more than the usual, quick flash of learning. It was like they'd suddenly stepped down yet another new path, another test, and Dean felt it was only fair to have some idea what was waiting for them at the end.

Sam nodded, trusting his friend and tried to concentrate on driving. He didn't let go of Dean's leg for the entire drive.


	3. Chapter 3

Only minutes after getting Sam out of his jeans and under his sheets the boy was out, emotionally drained from the last hour or so on top of an exhausting day. It was not the way Dean would have liked the celebration of Sam's birthday to go. He was angry, at himself but mostly this _demon_ who had deemed the time appropriate to approach Sam.

Dean should have _stopped_ it, long before he really did. Now he pressed flush against Sam's side until he was one hundred percent positive the boy was deeply asleep. Then he climbed out of bed and paced out of the room and down the hallway.

"I need answers," he vocalized on the offhand chance his thoughts hadn't been heard before. "Tell me how to fix this before it begins."

"It's already begun," a voice said moments before a man flickered into view. He wasn't really like anyone in the way he was like _everything_. Little bits and pieces that could have been torn from anyone's features and smoothed out to make his own. Crisply cut black hair, shorter than Dean's, a rounded jaw, almond shaped eyes that looked green at first, blue after he blinked and then brown a moment later. He wore loose black pin striped pants that hung straight down from his hips and made him look impossibly taller, taller than Sam at least, much taller than Dean. Without reaching out Dean could tell his shirt was made of velvet, could see the soft fabric soak in the overhead light and almost glow. "Hello Dean," he said with a smile, head tipping forward so ever changing eyes could meet his own. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

The way he said it made Dean's chest swell slightly with something that could be called fear just as easily as it could be called excitement. "Are you the one who's been giving me information all this time?" He asked curiously and though the man - or, angel he presumed - didn't seem much of a threat Dean still slid in front of the hallway to act as a wall when the other stepped forward.

This seemed to ignite a warm, rich laughter in the man who held up his hands and stepped back slightly. "Forgive me, it has been too long since I was with a guardian angel and his charge, I forgot the drive to protect."

"They still got to him," Dean's eyes opened wide in slight surprise, like he'd just remembered what happened. "It was like he'd been waiting for Sam to leave the room. How did he know we were there?"

With a sympathetic smile the man turned slightly and crossed the room, tracing along the framed Indian artwork on the wall that had come with the house when they moved in. "I imagine he has a whole slew of people working for him, watching and waiting. It was known for awhile that Sam was in this area but between your precautions and his father's, they had been unable to pin point him until now."

It was pretty much what Dean had assumed and he nodded slowly, folding his arms across his chest in a habit he'd picked up from Sam over the years. "You never told me who you are," he pointed out quietly, senses traveling out to ensure Sam was still sleeping and wasn't dealing with any nightmares Dean could potentially soothe away.

When his eyes opened once more the man was watching him with a fond smile. "You care for him so much. I don't think I've ever seen an angel so devoted to his charge."

"Sam is my only," Dean said quietly and his hands slowly slid back down to his sides. "I love him," he added and glanced up at the man, head tilting to the side in slight confusion. "Am I to be punished?"

"For the things you and Sam have shared?" The man prompted and smiled when Dean's cheeks colored and his gaze dropped. "You are _different_ Dean, I will give you that. There will be no punishment. I'm here to speak with you about Azazel and his plans for Sam."

"He has _plans_?" Dean slightly hissed, shoulders tensing. He'd always expected _something_ in Sam's future, but him being part of a demon's bigger agenda was nearly shocking. "How do I stop it? What do I do?"

Once more the man was laughing with fond amusement and he turned away from the artwork he'd still been inspecting, sliding forward slowly.

"You're eager Dean, I understand that. But you must simply continue to do what you've been doing already. Sam is going to need you more than ever in the future. As soon as he's left his father's home, he'll no longer have that protection. And Azazel or one of his followers will be back. It's up to you to stop them, keep Sam safe."

Dean's lips pressed together and he scratched absently at his neck. "I... I have more questions. But I don't know who you are, and you won't tell me. What if I'm not meant to trust you?"

"You would know if you weren't meant to trust me," the man pointed out and smiled, eyes twinkling bright green for a moment. "My name is Rahmiel. I am an angel, as you have already guessed. I guess you could say I'm your upper management, wholly responsible for your actions. And I assure you Dean, I wish nothing but your success. At this time, you do not yet understand how important your task is."

"I don't consider being with Sam a task," Dean pointed out and rolled the name _Rahmiel_ on his tongue. It was odd, unlike most human names, but Dean could sense no threat from the angel. Despite the ever changing color his eyes were kind, his features were soft, and Dean felt the strangest sort of kinship with him when he smiled in that amused way and slowly shook his head.

"Can you tell me what it is he wants with Sam? It won't affect me being here but perhaps I could be better prepared for the future?"

Rahmiel's smile dimmed slightly and his head tilted down, eyes scanning along the carpet slowly. "Do you remember when Sam was a baby, and you first saw that demon? Do you recall what he did?"

When it had first happened, it had been all Dean could see. He had felt hopeless, just a child despite his heavenly purpose, he'd been unable to protect Sam then. "I remember. Now he's come back. I don't understand. Sam is special, I know this, but what does this, Azazel, want with him?"

"It's hard to say what his ultimate goal is, but we know bits and pieces. Most importantly, we know that Sam plays a vital role. It can't come to that. He must be stopped before he can get to that place. You have to keep him from... that life," Rahmiel insisted and his voice was urgent, a rushed whisper as if suddenly this impending future was looming in on them from all sides.

It was enough for Dean, the part of him made to follow orders was already cataloguing this one, shifting and changing the things in him. But it wouldn't be enough for Sam, always curious and in this case, the answers would be needed to calm the fear no doubt playing just under the surface. "Sam will want to know more. He'll want to know everything. I must tell him whatever I can, to help him."

Rahmiel's smile grew and he nodded swiftly. "Yes, your charge is a... curious one. He's changed you in many ways."

A faint blush colored Dean's cheeks and he rubbed along the back of his neck. "So what can you tell me? What can I tell him?"

"Sometimes... it's better if people don't know the future that could be. You tell Sam what you know. I realize it's not much but the less you know, the less he'll know. Trust me you will always be prepared for any battles to come, hopefully there will be none," Rahmiel stepped back an inch and his being seemed to flicker as if he was concluding the conversation.

"Wait, there's more," Dean stepped closer, hand lifting slightly to stop Rahmiel. "Please, I need to know. Sam and I, I need to know it's okay. That, the way he makes me feel, it's not meant to be like this," the color on Dean's cheeks grew and his lips twitched in a slight smile. "I enjoy it. Am I meant too?"

"I'm not sure I'm the one meant to speak of who's meant to enjoy this or that. But I haven't been told otherwise," Rahmiel stepped closer until he could reach out to cup Dean's shoulder and squeeze. "Things have a funny way of working out Dean. Have faith in that. I'll be here, always, when you need me."

Dean had a million more things he could ask, a million more questions swirling through his mind, but one blink and Rahmiel was gone, leaving only the faint heat of a hand on his shoulder.

For the rest of the night Dean considered the angel's warning, his words, walking slowly around the house to ensure all the places the father had put up for protection were safe. As the sun rose Dean found himself sitting on the roof, staring out into the landscape as if he could see where Azazel was at this moment. He would protect Sam, no matter what it took, and he would never allow him to be in harm's way like that again, because Dean loved Sam, every little thing about him, and that was all that mattered.

-=-=-=-

For countless years Dean had watched Sam sleep, so he knew the little signs, when the boy was dreaming, when it was a nightmare, and now, when he was beginning to wake. He sat along the edge of the bed and didn't even have to look back, the gentle shifting of his legs along the mattress, soft little murmurs, Dean's heart felt heavy, knowing it wouldn't take long for this conversation to begin. Sliding back an inch or so, Dean pulled his legs up on the bed and tucked his arms around them. His thoughts weren't settled from the night before and he worried what little help he'd be to Sam.

Sam had a few moments of peace when he awoke and then his mind slowly released the dam holding back his memories and fears from the previous night. Opening his eyes slowly he looked up at Dean's strong back. Hesitating only another moment or two Sam curled his body around Dean's; knees tucking up against Dean's hip and thigh, chest pressing against Dean's back.

Pulling his arm back Dean looped it around Sam's body and held him close, turning toward him to press a kiss to his temple and sighing softly. "Sleep okay?" He asked softly, letting his nose ruffle along the sleep messed hair.

Sighing, Sam wrapped his body tighter around Dean's. "I was really tired. Were you here all the time?" The unspoken question, of course, _are we safe?_ Sam wasn't sure he would ever feel safe anywhere again. He was pretty sure he'd never close his eyes again without seeing those yellow eyes glinting in the dark. Shuddering he reached up for Dean's hand.

"It's okay, no one can find you here," Dean insisted and let his fingers lace with Sam's. "You've been safe all these years before. It was just..." Dean sighed and let his shoulders slump slightly. "I'm sorry Sam; I failed in keeping you safe. I promise, it won't happen again."

"You kept me safe," Sam insisted. "What does he want? Is he going to kill me?" Sam shuddered involuntarily. He could still feel the cold animosity that had radiated from the demon; it was tangible - how much that man hated him and Sam had no idea why.

Shaking his head Dean pulled Sam in closer. "No. He doesn't want you dead. If he did he wouldn't have wasted time with small talk. Sam, do you know who that demon was? Do you recognize him, from the stories your Dad has told you?" He shifted slightly back enough to peer into Sam's eyes.

Nodding, Sam blinked up at Dean with wide-eyes. "Yes, he-" a sharp breath caught in Sam's chest and he took a few moments to try and get his lungs to work again. "He looks like the one who killed my Mom. The one that my Dad is hunting." Sam's fingers tightened on Dean's, thumb rubbing the smooth flesh of his friend's hand.

"He - yes. It's that demon." Dean nodded slowly and swallowed. "He... he wants you for something. You're part of some plan. But I don't know what it is. I only know that we won't allow it to happen." Dean pressed a hard kiss to Sam's temple, sucking in a needless breath.

"Is he gonna hurt you? I don't want him to hurt you." Sam started to shiver again and fell silent. There were too many questions trying to fight their way out of his head. "Dad's gonna kill me." The irony of the statement made a wry smile creep onto Sam's face. Of all the things to worry about, it seemed so small.

Chuckling in mild surprise at the statement Dean shook his head. "I doubt it. Though we should probably come up with a logical way you escaped. Somehow I can't see _my guardian angel saved me_ going over very well." He smiled slightly and dipped down to brush his lips against Sam's softly.

"What now?" Hooking his hand over Dean's shoulder Sam pulled himself up until he was sitting, leaning heavily against his friend's shoulder. He might have been joking the previous night about having _grown-up_ conversations but suddenly it didn't seem very funny.

Scooping Sam up Dean pulled him into his lap, chuckling softly to himself. Before too long he wouldn't be able to do this anymore. "Now, we decide how to speak with your father about this. There are hunter tools he might give you, to protect you. Things I don't know about." Dean made a mental note to Rahmiel for more information on the subject as his hand drifted up Sam's back and to his hair. "I spoke with another angel last night," he said quietly, feeling as if keeping the secret would be a distrust between them.

Sam's eyes widened a little and he shifted so he was straddling Dean's lap. "You're staying though..." He couldn't bear to make it sound like a question.

Blinking in a moment of surprise Dean whispered in return, "yes of course I'm staying." His hands lifted to cradle Sam's jaw on either side and he smiled softly. "Sorry, I shouldn't have started that way. I was searching for information, about the demon, and the ways I could keep you safe. And... about us. You and I. It was, the angel who came, his name is Rahmiel. I guess he's kind of like my boss?" Dean's fingers caressed absently along Sam's skin as he spoke, eyes narrowed slightly with thought.

"About us?" Sam's lashes fell for a moment. "Are you in trouble?"

"No," Dean said slowly and lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. "He didn't seem too bothered actually. He said it wasn't his place to determine if it was okay, but that no one had told him it wasn't."

Scrunching his face up in slight annoyance Dean met stared into Sam's eyes until he looked up. "I still don't understand how I can _do_ any of those things when no one else can see me, and so many other things are..." Shaking his head rough Dean cut himself of and smiled at Sam. "It's not important now. How are we going to speak with your father about the demon?"

"I don't think we should." Sam's rolled his shoulders slightly. "Do you have any idea how angry he's going to be? I'll be lucky if I ever get to drive anything again." Sam's fingers fidgeted with the buttons on Dean's shirt. "And I _ran_ , Dean. I should have been prepared. Dad has always told me what's in the trunk - I didn't even salt the windows and doors. My whole life he's been telling me how to protect myself and I never took him seriously."

"Because you have me. And I'm supposed to protect you," Dean pointed out, hands curving to rest along Sam's neck. "So... maybe you don't tell him about the demon, per say. Maybe instead, you ask about it? We could use the information and you could pretend that you're interested just for the sake of being interested." He stared for a moment then laughed, "Listen to the bad guardian angel encouraging his charge to lie. I may not be very good at this job."

Sam sucked on his bottom lip for a while, eyes moving over Dean's face. "Did he tell you... about me? Why me?" As far as Sam was concerned sixteen was entirely too young to have to deal with demons. He knew his Dad would say that Sam had been slacking - should have been paying more attention all along.

"Not really. He didn't offer much outside insisting how important it was to protect you. I don't think he knew much to tell me. Or maybe he just preferred I not know. Either way, all I know is Azazel seems to think he's going to use you in some... big plan. But obviously that's not going to happen." Dean pulled Sam a little closer into him, arms dropping around his waist and squeezing. "Maybe we should start training more. You know, like the way your father does with you when he's home."

Anxiety nipped at Sam spine. "Training for a fight?" His eyes widened again, "maybe I'm supposed to," he swallowed, "kill him?" All the words his father had spoken to him over the years were coming back to him. If John Winchester couldn't protect his wife - well - it seemed like a pretty impossible task for Sam.

"I, no; I wasn't really thinking along those lines. Just that, it's good to be safe you know?" Dean dug his fingers into Sam's lower back and frowned. "You know what crap is out there, it's going to be smart to be prepared in case you ever have to fight it." He leaned in slightly and bumped his forehead against Sam's.

Sliding his arms around Dean's neck Sam shifted closer and rested his chin on his friend's shoulder. "I... I'm sorry," his lips moved against Dean's ear as he whispered the words.

"Why are you sorry?" Dean asked curiously, arms sliding up to hold the boy tight.

"This is supposed to be a good time, sixteen and just, and we-" A kiss pressed to the shell of Dean's ear stopped Sam's words. The last twenty-four hours had been like a roller coaster ride. The elation of touching Dean, the thrill of sneaking away, driving and then the fear. The fear was still with him, itching at Sam's skin like it had soaked into him somehow. Things had changed. So many things had changed.

"Hey, this doesn't have to ruin things for you alright?" Dean pulled back slightly and met Sam's gaze, grasping his jaw firmly. "You're safe with me Sam. You know that. And you're safe here. We'll cover everything else when that time comes." He brought their lips together for a gentle kiss and smiled against Sam's mouth. "You trust me yeah?"

"Of course I trust you." Sam's lips curved into a slight smile. "You're my best friend."

-=-=-=-

Outside of Sam, there was one other person who was a constant in Dean's life, though on most occasions he never thought of the father in that way. From the very beginning Dean had been slightly intimidated by John Winchester - which was most of the reason he refrained from referring to him by name even mentally - and if it hadn't been for the love he had for his son, Dean might have even hated the man a little. If there was one thing to be said about him, one thing that made him stand out from any other person in this overcrowded world, it was his passion. Dean saw flickers of that passion, occasionally, behind Sam's eyes when something would settle in his heart and make his eyes burn as his nostrils flared with excitement or rage or fear. They felt with their whole heart, whole mind, every fibre of them, and that wasn't always a good thing.

Those feelings were obvious to Dean whenever the father was around, from the very beginning. Though he couldn't explain how Sam had learned to do things like walk, talk, bathe himself at night, put himself to bed, he was ready to accept it, ready to let Sam be on his way to growing up.

And it never meant that he didn't love his son, Dean knew this because some nights the father would come in and sit on the edge of the bed, Dean would watch him watch Sam for hours with the saddest eyes he'd ever seen and _know_ how the man cared. But the father... he was a lost man, thrust into a life he never knew existed after the death of his wife, far too early in their lives. And once he'd accepted that nothing human killed the woman he loved, that passion, anger, determination flared to life, burning in the pit of his stomach where it settled and grew over the years.

Even now, years later, that passion had yet to dim. In fact, it may have been worse. Now that Sam was a little more grown up, the father felt comfortable leaving him for extended periods, sometimes even weeks, and it was alright since Dean was there. Had he not been... well, Dean preferred not to think about those things because that time would never come.

There was an odd sort of kinship between Dean and the father, built over the last few years during the times Sam was away. Of course, the man never knew it but Dean often sat with him at the table and listened to him talk aloud about his latest hunt, wondering how things might be different if he could offer his opinion.

Because of this slightly weird connection between them, Dean allowed himself to occasionally pick up on the man's senses. Especially when it was the day he was supposed to arrive home and Sam would often ask him if his father was close. This time Sam didn't ask, but Dean told him when he was getting closer just to prepare him. The conversation wasn't likely to be all that much fun but Dean had learned that, despite his short comings, the father really did have a soft spot when it came to his son. He'd always felt a little like he didn't give Sam enough - which was pretty true - so he often sought out ways to make things better.

They sat on the couch in silence together. Dean held Sam's hand in a way they'd practiced over the years, just casual enough to make it look like Sam's hand was resting casually on his lap. Gravel crunched beneath tires moments before a roaring engine cut off. The squeak of metal as a truck door opened, slammed shut. Dean could feel Sam's pulse lurch as the man approached and he curled into his side, head resting on his shoulder, breathing a quiet murmur of reassuring words.

The door creaked open and the father stomped his boots down onto the welcome mat, adjusting the strap of the bag around his shoulder before glancing up. "Sam," he said as a greeting and dropped the bag along the wall, walking toward the living room and falling heavily back into the arm chair, causing it to squeak in protest. "What's up? You look like you seen a ghost," he pointed out with a half smirk, even as his eyes flickered around the living room as if checking for anything abnormal.

Sam's eyes skittered across his Dad's face; it always felt like maybe they didn't know each other well enough to meet each others' gaze. "I was waitin'; we gotta talk," Sam took a deep breath and added, "Dad." His heart was banging around in his chest and he gripped Dean's hand tightly.

Straightening up in his chair the man's eyes narrowed slightly and Dean slipped a hand around Sam's middle, pressing his palm into his chest firm and familiar. "Did somethin' happen to the car?"

"No, Sir." Sam dropped his eyes to his Dad's boots. Worn leather and tired looking laces; his Dad really needed to go shopping but then, when would he ever have the time? "I - I did something really stupid." He glanced at Dean and wished more than ever that his father could see his friend. "Because it was my birthday I wanted, well, it was dumb and I drove to Kansas City because there were some things I wanted to see. I took a credit card in case something went wrong 'cause I knew I didn't have enough cash." Blinking Sam's eyes darted up to meet his Dad's gaze for a moment and winced when he saw how stern his father looked. "I saw the demon," he blurted out, "the one with the yellow eyes."

The play of emotions across his father's face was guarded but just barely, a flash of anger, disbelief, back to anger. "Did he touch you? Hurt you in any way?" He asked through a clenched jaw, brows pulled together in agitation.

"No," Sam shook his head vigorously. "I..." Sam glanced at Dean, felt his friend's hand press against him gently. "I got away - I don't know how, it just, he was there and he talked to me and then I ran to the car." It wasn't a lie. Sam really didn't have much of an idea how Dean had managed to pin the demon long enough for them to get away. "He said he knew you - that you and him that - I don't know." Sam shifted uncomfortably.

"Yellow eyes," his father sighed warily and scrubbed at his chin. "We've talked about this Sam. You know what that demon did. Probably came back to finish up the job," the words were practically snarled and he turned swiftly to the side, throat clenching around rough swallows. " _Shit_ Sam. What the hell... damnit... you should have known better. You should have taken the steps to ensure no one could find you. Were you alone?" He snapped the question, eyes fixing on Sam.

"I just wasn't thinking. My friends were busy and it was my birthday. I've never been to Kansas city." The words just fell out of Sam's mouth as he tried desperately not to lie to the man. "Ice," he said quietly, "I just wanted a cold drink and he was there. I know it was a stupid thing to do, Dad. Scared the hell out of me and I... why does he want me? What does he want?" Sam blew out a breath and waited for the tirade he was sure would follow.

Dean's hand slid across Sam's shoulders and down his back, pressing in firmly. The way the father's nostrils flared, eyebrows pulled together, it was pretty clear he had some choice things to say to his son. "Sam, I expect better of you. Damnit, I've taught you better than this. When you're home you always know to check the salt lines, know where the nearest weapons art, I wouldn't even mind you _stealing_ from me if you'd been smart enough to protect yourself. How the hell am I supposed to know you're okay to leave here at home alone?" He pushed out of the chair, fingers spreading wide and curling together as he started a slow pace in front of the living room. "I don't know, maybe we should move again. Get you somewhere safe. Maybe I'll just take you on the road with me now, keep an eye on you."

"But school," Sam blurted out, "my friends are here. This was supposed to be my home..." Sam's eyes began to water. The very idea of leaving home and everyone he knew was too much. "I know it was stupid, I said that. You know I can take care of myself - people make mistakes and you should have told me that he'd be looking for me. Did you know that? I mean, Dad - I know what he did but how could I know that he would be looking for me?" Sam could feel the heat of anger coloring his cheeks.

"You think I would have let you go at all by yourself had I known he was lookin' for you?" His father snapped and turned to Sam, eyes slightly wide. "I... I've gotta think about this. Figure out a way to know you're gonna be safe if I leave you alone." He crossed the room back to his bag and tossed it onto the couch, landing where Dean was and causing him to shimmer. "You put those things away, bring out the weapons, we'll finish this while we clean." The line in his jaw was still tight and hard, and he spun to head into the kitchen, tugging the fridge open to grab a beer and slamming it closed hard enough to shake a magnet from the surface.

Swallowing down his indignation Sam pushed up quickly off the couch and dragged his Dad's duffel bag off the couch and started to pull things out. He carefully set the weapons on the kitchen table and then hauled his Dad's bag down to the back room to pull out his dirty clothes and throw them in the old washing machine. "Dean," he whispered.

In a flash Dean was by Sam's side, pulling him in close and around the corner so they were safely tucked inside Sam's bedroom. "It's okay. You know he just needs to calm down," he whispered, head burying into Sam's neck, nuzzling into his hair.

"I don't want to move from here, Dean." Sam pushed Dean back against the wall, eyes blazing. "We should tell him about you, and then he won't be so mad." His fingers pressed hard into Dean's chest, like somehow keeping him there would convince him that it was the right thing to do.

"No. I don't think that's going to make him any happier," Dean pointed out, sliding to the side slightly. " _If_ he even believed you, which I would highly doubt, then he'd... you know... maybe he'd figure out a way to banish angels or something. Maybe he wouldn't believe that I'm helping you." He looked up at Sam with wide eyes.

"You look after me," Sam's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why would he want to protect me from angels? There are ways to banish angels?" Confusion gnawed at Sam and he stepped back slightly. "Tell me why someone would want to keep angels away."

"I don't know," Dean shook his head roughly, blinking slowly at Sam. "But what if he could? What if he wanted to send me away?"

"We should tell him." Sam shook his head slowly.

Dean continued to stare at Sam with mild shock before slowly dropping his gaze and shrugging. "It's not like I can stop you." He didn't know if it was alright, didn't know how the man would react to learning about him, or how Rahmiel would see it. But it was true that he couldn't stop Sam, especially would the boy made his mind up about something. "So. Go tell him."

Finger drifting toward Dean's hand Sam pulled away at the last moment and strode out of the room. His father was still in the kitchen, probably hungry after his long trip. Sam knew his Dad didn't really take care of himself, not the way he should anyway. Pulling the hall cupboard open, Sam got out the box of cleaning supplies and put it on the table then sat down. Long fingers curled around his father's silver knife and Sam picked up a polishing cloth to start cleaning the blade. The movements were soothing, the repetition of it so familiar.

It was rare that Dean hovered in the place in between, not really there but not gone. This time, he did just that, watching Sam cleaning the knife at the table and the father moving around the kitchen before turning and carrying a sandwich and beer to Sam's side, dropping down in a chair.

Dean had never been sick to his stomach but it felt like he might experience that now. There was no way to know how the man would react to his son's confession. "So maybe it's not the best thing to move you," the man began after swallowing a large bite of sandwich. "But damnit, how am I supposed to know you're gonna be okay still? How do I know he didn't follow you?"

"I drove pretty fast," Sam kept rubbing at the blade. "He said he couldn't see me - or find me - no." Sam looked up at his Dad, "what he said exactly was that he could never quite see me right. What do you think that means?" Sweeping his eyes are the room quickly Sam frowned; no sign of Dean.

Sam’s father fell into a thoughtful silence as he ate, drained half of his beer, and then shrugged with one shoulder. "Suppose it's the wards set up around the house. Pretty permanent fixture. Guess I'm gonna have to teach you how to make those, get them set up for..." his hand gestured through air to signify the unknown future. "I gotta look more into the protect thing, see if there's not something more solid you can wear. Now that he knows you around... he might be looking harder." The man's face was tight with worry and concern and Dean sighed barely audible, taking the third chair at the table. He would have laughed at the random bizarre arrangement, the three of them together, if this wasn't such a serious moment.

Sam glanced up at his Dad and saw Dean appear. Watching to see his Dad look down at the table, Sam mouthed _I'm sorry_ at Dean and smiled sadly. He'd been panicking. Dean had been right - his Dad wasn't going to be angry for long; he was probably just reeling like Sam was. Neither of them had expected the demon to appear, Sam was sure if his father had figured for a _moment_ that Sam was a target like that - he would have told him. They did trust each other. John had never lied to Sam.

Blinking slowly, Sam smiled at Dean and put the knife down gently on the table. "Dad, do you think maybe I could help with research if you gave me some things to look for? I have free time in the computer lab at school."

"Not too sure it's something you should be researching at school," the father pointed out using his sandwich to gesture toward Sam. Dean smiled slightly and nodded in agreement, comforted by the look Sam gave him that suggested he wasn't going to be spilling in guardian angel secrets just yet. "I'll let you look at my notes though. Read over what I've found so far. What you do with it is up to you," dropping the sandwich on his plate the man reached out and clasped Sam on the shoulder, squeezing roughly. "I'm just glad you're alright son. I don't know how you made it out of there but... you're damn lucky."

Taking a small chance, Sam huffed out a small laugh. "Don't I know it?" Reaching out for the smaller knife Sam started to work on the copper blade. "Dad?"

"Hmm?" The man glanced at him as he pushed to his feet, draining his beer and carrying both the bottle and plate back to the kitchen.

"Will you be training me how to hunt one day? Is that what I'm 'sposed to do?" Sam had started to think about school recently. He could graduate in two years and people were already starting to talk about what they might do when they graduated. It had never occurred to Sam that his life would be so connected to what his father did.

Dean glanced at Sam in unison with the father, eyebrows lifting slightly. "Well, yeah. I've already started. Thought this summer I'd take you with me. Let you get some experience." Dean wasn't exactly jumping for joy at the idea of Sam hunting but if the last twenty four hours had taught him anything, it was that Sam wasn't really safe out in the real world. He needed to be trained to fight.

Nodding slowly Sam moved the cloth over the handle of the knife gently. "I guess there's no point in looking at schools then." His brow furrowed slightly, lately, every time he thought of something it was like someone ripped the world out from under him.

"This demon has to be caught. Taken care of. And there's so much else out there in the world, Sam. We know about this shit when no one else does. Ignoring it wouldn't really be right," he explained as he dropped down into the unoccupied chair, pulling a gun up to begin taking it apart. "Why? You got your heart set on something?" Dean, who was watching and listening curiously, turned his eyes to Sam once more.

"Well, I was just curious about school. Tom's gonna go to college I think; I hadn't really thought about it much." Rubbing his cheek with the back of his hand Sam shrugged a shoulder and avoided looking across the table at Dean. They'd never talked about what might happen after school.

The man hummed a slightly non-committal noise as if he were done with the discussion and picked up a rag. Dean stared down at the table for awhile, losing himself in thought. Most of the time it was the here and now for Dean, he worried about the present and spared only a few thoughts for the future. But he could tell by the sad note to Sam's tone that the boy hadn't thought hunting was in his future. It was an unfortunate reality but likely, it was one of the safer choices.

If Sam were trained to hunt, Dean could be something valuable, he'd be able to pick up on things, help out, they could make an unstoppable team. But if Sam went to college, then he'd have a normal life, maybe even away from the demon, and Dean would grow more and more into the background, there to step in on that inevitable day when the demon returned. Maybe Sam wanted _normal_. A career, a wife and kids? What would Dean do then?

"Gonna leave again tomorrow mornin'. Probably won't be back until your school is out so have your things ready, we'll go out together then," the father said after awhile and glanced over at Sam. "You got homework or somethin' to do now?"

"Yeah, some, you want me to go do that now?" Sam looked at the weapons laid out between them on the table. Always a shotgun, two knives and some chains separating Sam from his father.

"Yeah, you go do that." He nodded and hunched over his weapons, not looking up until Sam stood. "I'm glad you're okay. Gonna get you a cell phone, so next time you can call. If there's a next time."

"There won't be a next time, well, I mean not for me takin' off like that. I'm sorry, Dad." Sam took a half step forward then leaned down quickly and gave his Dad a half hug. It was uncomfortable, unfamiliar and Sam was already pulling away when his Dad's arm came up to slip over his son's hand. "Thanks, Dad." Sam wandered down the hall to his bedroom, closed the door quietly and leaned his forehead against the warm wood.

Dean settled himself on the bed, legs folded in front of him as he stared at Sam quietly. "That wasn't so bad," he said softly after a few moments, fingers itching to have Sam near.

Sam groaned and thumped his head against the door. "This is one of those times when I wish I had a normal life like other people. You know, the kind of life where my big problem would be whether I had a date for the dance or got onto the basketball team, stuff like that."

This was a line of conversation Dean was very familiar with and it never failed to stir up something unpleasant in him. "I know," he said softly, fingers curling over his thighs. "I'm sorry that this is the life you're stuck with," Dean offered, shrugging since he knew the words weren't all that helpful.

"I'm going to school." Sam pushed off the door and moved over to pick up his backpack. "Dad can't, well; he won't stop me if I really argue for it." The zipper sounded loud in his room as he opened his bag and grabbed his English text. "Get him to teach me how to hide myself, how to make sure I'm okay." Sam was almost muttering to himself; the last twenty-four hours had pressed him to some sort of limit he'd never realized he even had.

"But, it's not safe," Dean pointed out, a hopeless little flutter sparking up in his chest. "Think about it Sam, one day out of your Dad's house, in Kansas City, and the demon found you. You'd be completely exposed trying to live that kind of life." He bit down on his lip, head tilting to the side slightly as he stared at Sam, eyes wide.

"Dean," Sam tossed his book on the floor, angry, frustrated. Lowering his voice he rubbed at his forehead. "Neither you _nor_ Dad know what this guy wants. No one knows he'll find me again - you're supposed to be some fancy guardian angel and you don't even know who this guy is and what he's capable of. I'm sixteen years old, Dean. I'm supposed to be going to dances and sneaking cigarettes and eating too many chocolate bars. Do you know how weird it is that I had to sneak off with you on my birthday? I'm not like other people - I know that - but I want to do the normal things that _are_ there for me to try. School I can do - I'm not stupid, I'm damn smart. You know that, Dad knows it. I could be someone, do something good." Sam took a deep breath, panting slightly.

Wavering slightly Dean shifted back on the bed, surprised slightly by the swell of anger he was so rarely on the receiving end of. "You are someone," he pointed out quietly, knowing at this time there was no point in addressing the other topics. "Hunting. It's... you need to _know_ these things. It will keep you safe. Maybe you could go to school later? On TV they always have ads for colleges later in life. Once the demon is gone-"

"No." Sam shook his head and walked over to the window. "I'm going to school." He wasn't giving up this idea; the stupid thing was he hadn't even really thought about it. It was more symbolic than anything - like it was the last straw.

"I want to do something normal. Hunting? Fine. Dad can show me what he needs to show me - and I'll be trained." Turning slowly, Sam stared hard at Dean. "You'll be there won't you? If I go to school?"

"You know I go where you go," Dean said quietly, staring down at his hands. _More school_. That would mean another room to spend his days in, probably nights since Sam would make friends, be _normal_. How long would it be until he just faded into the background like all the other guardian angels?

Dean wondered if this was how it always was, when an angel was sent to guard his charge, a friend and confident in the beginning, a silent protector in the end. "You still have two years," Dean murmured and shrugged, not sure if there was any point to that outside stating an obvious truth.

Blinking slowly, Sam felt some of the tension start to thaw. "I still have two years." Padding back over to the bed Sam slid his hand across Dean's cheek, thumb rubbing slowly. "What are you thinking about?" He could always tell when Dean started to worry - it was subtle but Sam knew his friend better than he knew himself. There was sadness in Dean's expression that hadn’t been there before.

Looking up to meet Sam's gaze Dean frowned for a moment before forcing his lips up. He wouldn't trouble Sam with his own emotions, it wasn't about that. It was Sam's life, he was meant to guard and protect him, and he would go wherever it was Sam chose to go. "I'm just worrying about you, you know how it goes. Always the front of my mind." He leaned into the touch and reached out to slide a hand through his hair. "I'll always be with you. No matter what Sammy," he said softly and let his eyes flutter closed slowly.

Tilting his head to the side Sam smiled down at his _angel_. "What do you want to do?" He'd never asked Dean what he wanted before, sometimes, he just simply took it for granted that Dean was always there.

"What do I want to do?" Dean looked into his gaze and frowned. "Like... now?"

Sam shrugged; thumb still moving lazily over freckled skin. "Now, tomorrow, in two years. What makes you happy? What are your dreams?" A soft smile moved onto Sam's lips as he watched his friend's eyes widen.

Never having given thought to his own dreams, Dean shrugged with his whole body, settling the weight of the questions. It hurt, though Sam couldn't know it would. He frowned, lips turning down as he slowly shook his head. "Sam, you make me happy. That's... you... you're the only thing that matters to me. There's nothing else beyond that."

"There must be other things." Sam's brow furrowed, "what about after?"

"After? After what?" Dean's heart clenched slightly, mouth feeling oddly dry though he felt it shouldn't. "After you don't need me anymore?"

"Well, there must be an end right? Then what?" Sam felt the strangest sensation of apprehension nip at his heart. _What if Dean did go?_ Jaw clenched, Sam could feel a muscle twitching along his cheek. Kneeling down he shuffled forward until he was settled in the V of Dean's legs, arms resting on his friend's thighs.

Shaking his head once more Dean stared down at Sam's arms. "It doesn't really work like that. I'm going to be with you until one of two things happens. Either, you pass away," Dean looked up quickly, heart clenching just at the thought. "Sometime, many _many_ years in the future. And by then I'll likely just be sort of presence, you know, you'll probably have a family and stuff. I'll just sort of... be there. Or the other. Which would be you telling me you didn't need me anymore. Then... I'm not sure. I suppose I would go to heaven? I've never thought to ask." Dean dropped his eyes once more and frowned once more.

"I won't ever do that, you know." Sam's fingers massaged Dean's thighs, kneading the muscles. He had to tip his head back to look up into Dean's eyes; sea green, covered by his thick black lashes. "Like the forest through the trees," Sam whispered as his expression softened - morphed into one fuelled by the emotion welling up inside him.

Dean didn't really know what to say to that, didn't want to voice any fears he didn't want to acknowledge. So he moved forward instead and pressed his lips to Sam's, telling him through a soft kiss that he trusted him, loved him, and like always, he would be there.


	4. Chapter 4

It startled Dean, sometimes, how quickly time could pass without him being completely aware. When you didn't really live, when moments passed _through_ someone, it was easy to lose track of the days turning into weeks, turning into months and then, just like that, Sam was about to graduate.

The two years following Sam's sixteenth birthday and the unfortunate run in with the demon were busy and jam packed, though Dean spent a fair bit alone. He didn't really mind, he understood, and if anything it was preparing him for the future. Sam was torn between clinging to the remnants of adolescent fun and the hunts his father dragged him on.

They trained and it worked best that way. Sam could be as rough with Dean as he wanted, he didn't feel the pain that would normally come. Occasionally Dean would seek out Rahmiel's presence and question him on that. How could he _feel_ with Sam, the gentle slides of lips, the burn of hands on his skin, the stifling heat consuming him when they finally got brave enough to roll their hips together without clothing. How could he experience so much then, and not feel physical pain? Not be seen by others? It confused Dean and made him feel more uncertain about his being than he thought possible.

Rahmiel offered no real answer, simply a small smile and a shrug, a quiet murmur that some things were bigger than them, bigger than the world, and you just had to go along with it.

Roll with the punches.

It was a concept Dean completely understood. Sometimes that was the only way it worked with Sam; for instance, when the topic of college came into play. Whenever Sam made an offhand remark about applications or possible locations, Dean would attempt a protest, insisting safety would come from sticking by his father for awhile, hunting.

Sam wasn't having it. He remained firm on the subject, not to be swayed, and eventually Dean caved to that stubborn part of Sam, a part Dean himself was incapable of feeling. When Sam wanted something, he was unable to say no.

And so, a few months before Sam's graduation, his fate was sealed in the form of a full ride scholarship to Stanford University in California. Dean had always known he was smart, and even though some part of him silently mourned the impending future, Dean was immensely proud of his Sammy. Anticipating resistance from the father, Dean was quick to provide his full support and stuck to Sam's side when he explained his decision and countered questions easily.

After two years solid of training, Sam had learned many things. He could protect himself - with Dean at his side - and the demon wasn't going to snatch him right out of the dorms. Or well, he wouldn't once Sam had ensured his living environment was just as safe as his home now.

Surprisingly, the father didn't put up much protest. Dean suspected he was relieved with the idea of not having to constantly keep an eye out for Sam on hunts. It would separate them even further, drive that wedge deeper between them, but Dean suspected Sam might be a little relieved with that; his path to a normal life.

The night of Sam's graduation he went to Tom's party and didn't come home until the next morning, stumbling slightly from what he claimed was apparently the worst hangover in the history of the world. Dean pretended like he hadn't been sitting up all night waiting for Sam, clutching a small box in his palm. A silly graduation present that he'd second guessed a thousand times over. When Sam turned up he was quick to help the man into the bathroom, even if he was several inches taller now and filled out with muscles formed from hunting. He wasn't much of a boy anymore but Dean still privately called him, his Sammy.

Dean had gotten some Advil in his system with a large glass of water before allowing him to sleep it off. And he waited, still, because more and more recently - and years before this - it was all he did. He waited for Sam. At least he'd gotten to watch him graduate; though he hadn't informed Sam he was there. Dean wasn't going to miss that for anything. He didn't mind waiting for Sam, Dean loved him and knew that this was their future. The space between them would only grow as the years progressed.

It was late afternoon before Sam stirred, and even then it was only long enough to use the bathroom and force down some protein. Apparently Tom's party had been one of those end all type things, and judging from what Sam managed to get out, he drank more than his body weight in alcohol. Dean didn't point out how impossible that was, just sat against the headboard with Sam's head in his lap, stroking the hair slowly to soothe him back into sleep. He stayed there, free hand still clutching the box, until Sam stirred in the morning, finally looking a little less hung over. He croaked hoarsely and Dean offered him a glass of water, soft smile on his face.

"Feeling a little more human?" He asked softly, not wanting to speak too loud since last time he apparently had and Sam hadn't been too pleased with him.

Sam's rusty voice hummed a deep agreement. Stretching his arms high over his head he arched his spine up, bowing over Dean's lap and feeling his muscles protest. "How long," Sam yawned, "did I sleep?" His head was finally feeling less like a football and more like a head.

Smiling softly Dean stared down at Sam and let his free hand settle across his chest. "Roughly a day, you were semi-conscious for a few hours yesterday afternoon but I don't think you remember. I think you mentioned something about making out with a guy named Matthew who smelt like... macaroni and cheese?" Dean prompted, blinking down at Sam and wondering if the spark running through him was jealousy.

"Wow," Sam murmured - memories all still a little murky. "Yeah, I... yeah. You probably don't want to hear about that." It was only a vague recollection that Sam had - Matthew was cute though. Someone's cousin or friend or, Sam shook his head and blinked the sleep out of his eyes. His eyes drifted down to Dean's hand. "What's in the box?"

Gazing dropping down to the box in question he frowned slightly, having forgotten about it in the wake of Sam spreading out across his lap. "It's a present? For your graduation. I waited for you..." he pressed his lips together and shrugged. "I saw you walk, you know, get your diploma. I waited after but I heard you talking with Tom about the party so I came back here and. Well, it's nothing special; you can open it later," Dean felt, of all things, nervous. Whether it was because he'd never given Sam a gift before, or because some part of him worried Sam would someday stop thinking of him as his best friend, Dean didn't know. It was likely all those things combined though.

Still a little bleary-eyed Sam turned his head toward Dean. "You got me a present?" He grinned up at Dean lifting a hand to curl around the back of his neck. He started to tug him down into a kiss and then thought better of it. "Probably have bad breath." Prying Dean's fingers off the box Sam took it. "Can I open it?"

"Yes," Dean nodded, not pointing out to Sam that he wouldn't care if he had bad breath or not. There was a part of him that was compelled to kiss away Sam's drunken make out session with Matthew the macaroni and cheese guy.

Sam pulled his knees up and rested the box on his thighs then popped it open. He pulled out a small pendent divided into quarters with tiny symbols circling the cross; they almost looked like a parade of small crudely drawn animals. "Mohammedan," he murmured. A smile tugged at his lips, "it will protect me." Clutching it tightly in his hand Sam gazed up at Dean, "I love it."

A wide smile pulled at Dean's lips and he stared down at Sam, touching his cheek softly. "I figured with it you'd be safe to walk around campus without looking over your shoulder. I mean, I'll probably travel with you just to be sure but... I imagine there will be times you don't want me lingering around." His smile dimmed slightly before he pushed it back to its usual brightness.

"I'm kinda used to your lingering." Sam grinned up at his friend. Giving up on the idea of bad breath being a problem Sam grabbed a fist full of Dean's t-shirt and tugged him down until their lips pressed together. "Thank you," he whispered against those full, sweet lips. "Now, see?" Sam settled back a little. " _You_ do not smell like mac and cheese." No - that ever present fresh and airy scent. _Angel_.

Chuckling softly Dean nodded in agreement before dipping in for another firm press of lips. He would never grow tired of kissing Sam, in fact there were times when he was home, waiting, that he spent hours thinking about it. Their stolen moments that came at the most random and wonderful times. Dean knew once Sam was in the dorms it wouldn't be so easy to steal these moments, roommate and all, and it made him kiss Sam harder, shifting across the mattress until he spread out beside him, half rolling onto his body.

"You make me happy," Sam murmured against Dean's lips when he pulled back to let his charge draw in some air. Always waiting for him. Sometimes, yeah, it felt so strange and Sam longed for the sense of privacy he'd never truly known. Other times, like waking up to that face, those lips - Sam felt like the luckiest man alive. If only ... there were always if-only's. "I want," Sam licked his lips and dragged Dean's hand down over his own belly, slipping his friend's fingers just under the waistband of his boxers. "How about you make me forget about Mac and cheese guy?" He wasn't sure if he was teasing or asking.

That tingling rush of sensation Dean always felt in moments like these coursed through him and dragged his teeth across his bottom lip, eyes traveling down the length of Sam's body. A small gasp fell from his mouth as his hand drifted lower and brushed along rock hard flesh. He didn't quite understand how he could make Sam feel like this, or how Sam made him feel likewise, and he'd never really _touched_ before, the thrill was enough to make his essence flicker for a moment. Then his fingers curled around the base of that flesh, eyes shooting up when a small noise left Sam's lips. He would never admit aloud to having seen Sam do this to himself, and he never worked up the courage to ask for knowledge on the subject, so he stuck to what he'd seen.

"Is this good?" He asked quietly, voice deeper than he'd ever heard it. His fingers felt alive, sensations sparking across his skin, as they slowly moved up, tracing the smooth line of heated skin that gave way to silk. Something sticky and warm, pre-come he thought, smeared across the tip of his thumb and he circled slowly, working it into overheated flesh.

"Shit, Dean," Sam's hips rolled up as he let his body drape backwards over Dean's arm. No one ever touched him like Dean did. No one else's fingers drifted across Sam's skin like Dean's and never before on his cock; stroking, teasing, exploring. He'd expected it to feel good - what he hadn't expected was the way his eyes drifted up to cling to Dean's. There was a question, "s'good." Perfect, all the things he'd imagined, better than the feel of Mathew's knee jammed up against his crotch and beer flavoured kisses. _Always_ better.

Every part of Sam suddenly seemed open to him. Dean could see emotions clearly across his face; love, trust, _lust_. It made his skin over heat, stretching uncomfortably tight until he felt it was the only thing keeping him grounded, even past its constricting pressure. That and his hand, wrapped strong and sure around Sam's arousal, stroking from the base to the tip and back down, twisting in that way he'd watched Sam do before to himself.

Dean shifted them around, twisting along the mattress until he could pull the man's boxers off and throw them to the side, giving his hand more room to work. "Sam," he whispered against the man's neck, fingers slicking over flesh now that the man was bare. "I would like... may I taste you?" Dean didn't _quite_ understand what all went into _tasting_ but he had the general idea from the time Sam and he had actually worked up the courage to watch one of those dirty movies. They hadn't made it far in before Sam had climbed up onto his lap and they'd rocked together until completion, but Dean felt confident he could figure out what to do next.

Sam's first reaction was to shudder through the icy wave of desire that slithered down his body. Dean's voice, his words felt real, big, tangible between them. _God_ he wanted that; just the idea of those lips, that mouth, _more_ heat on his aching flesh made his hips snap forward into the angel's hand. It just seemed so _real_ maybe _too_ real. Breath escaping his lips in a gasp then a moan, Sam's long fingers tugged urgently at the material of Dean's clothing. "Yes," he whispered as his hands moved up to comb through Dean's hair.

Wanting to feel Sam's skin against his, Dean let his eyes close for a moment before opening them once more, body bare as Sam's. He learned that every inch of Sam's chest tasted a mixture of salt and sweet, that Sam was unable to resist arching up as he sucked a dusky nipple between his lips, dragged his teeth along it.

A pleased moan fell from his lips as he crawled down the long length of his body, trailing across newly formed muscles and silky skin. Finally settling between Sam's legs Dean simply stared for a moment, taking in red swollen flesh and how stunning his body looked as a flush crawled slowly up. Dean didn't confess to not knowing what he was doing, just curled his fingers along the base and leaned tentatively forward, tasting the smear of sticky substance at the head. A soft, pleased noise worked through him as he dipped in to linger along the taste, drawing the head between his lips and sucking slowly.

It was as perfect as everything else about Dean. The shy, accidental way Dean teased as he lingered; it was as though he was committing each curve, each motion to memory. Sam rode the fierce wave of lust that drove his body up off the mattress and sent his hands down to grip Dean's shoulders. "Dean," he breathed. There would be bruises if Dean bruised; Sam's fingers were digging into the muscle, nails dragging across the pale skin.

Dean decided he enjoyed the way Sam said his name like this, a whispered sort of moan that sent little sparks of warmth through him. His hand around him clenched slightly and he pulled him in deeper, allowing the salty heat to roll over his tongue slowly.

The pressure of Sam's fingers grounded him, kept him from simply letting go and vanishing. It was all _so_ much. It was far more than Dean had ever anticipated feeling. Every part of him wanted Sam, wanted to claim him, take every inch of him, and he sucked harder against the man, pulling his hips up off the bed. Dean moaned around Sam's arousal in his mouth, tongue shifting along the flesh as much as possible. Part of him wondered if Sam had felt this with others before, or if he was the only one to bring such pleasure. He hoped that was the case and the desire for it had him sinking lower until Sam thick length filled every inch of his mouth.

"Fuck." Sam's jaw clenched so tight he could feel a muscle twitching along his jaw. He couldn't help thrusting forward even though he knew neither of them had done this before. But then how did Dean know how to do anything? _God_ it was like every nerve ending was on fire.

Sam's cock was swollen, heavy and full against Dean's tongue, under his full lips. There was nothing else for Sam beyond the stroke of Dean's fingers, the gentle murmurs that vibrated around his cock and the firm body under Sam's hands. Neck arched long, muscles protesting Sam twisted under his friend's mouth.

It turned out not needing to breath was a very helpful thing when it came to giving Sam the most pleasure as possible. He took his time along every inch of skin, alternating between a hard suck, the graze of teeth. Sam was so _responsive_ Dean wanted to feel it, constantly, the quick move and slide of his body beneath his. Pulling his head up slightly Dean relaxed his body further, shot his gaze up toward Sam and gave the briefest of nods. Sam's hips jerked up almost immediately and he moaned, low and deep in his throat as firm, long fingers dug into his hair. _So good_. Dean didn't think there would ever be anything better. His spirit felt like it may be glowing, alive with sparks of sensation that had him clenching his eyes shut and allowing Sam to thrust up as hard as he pleased into his mouth.

Sam's hips jerked and he thrust hard into Dean's waiting mouth. Time and again he pushed up and felt the wet heat of Dean's mouth and - _fuck_ \- his throat, wrapped around his aching cock. Soon his flesh was slipping so quickly into that heat Sam could feel everything start to melt apart inside him. Yanking hard on Dean's hair he got hold of him and pressed him down deeper onto his rigid cock. _Further_ , _deeper_ , _more_. Sam's spine turned to jelly seconds before his balls pulled and tightened. One last hard thrust of his hips and he was coming. Abs tightening, clenching he could feel every pulse of come as it spilled into Dean's throat.

Salty liquid exploded in Dean's mouth and he swallowed it down, feeling the hot burn down his throat. It settled warm and churning in his stomach, as if Dean could feel it settling in a place he didn't think he had. Pulling back when Sam's flesh was soft in his mouth, he blinked a few times before crawling up the man's body, staring curiously down at him. "That's the first time I swallowed anything," he said softly, slightly amused at the idea that Sam's come was the only thing ever introduced into his system.

Unable to even move, Sam was pretty certain that angel-sex might result in the liquefaction of human bones. "I think," he sucked in a breath of air, "you broke me." Summoning the last of his energy Sam lifted his head to catch Dean's lips in a long kiss, opening his mouth slightly, sliding his tongue forward to taste his come mingled with the familiar flavour of his friend. A slight tremble ran down his muscles and he settled back down onto the bed with a sigh. "Love being with you," he murmured.

Breaking out into a bright grin, Dean settled into Sam's side, looping an arm around his waist. "I love being with you too," he insisted quietly, a pleased swell was rising in him and Dean turned his head into Sam's shoulder, grinning into his skin. "Thank you," Dean whispered, breathing in Sam's scent and treasuring it.

"Thank you?" Sam laughed softly and managed to convince his arms to move so he could draw Dean closer. He licked his lips, "I should be, thanking you. That was, well, pretty fucking amazing." Letting his lips trail lazily across Dean's forehead he laughed again. "A million times better than making out with what's his name." As it turned out, his body wasn't quite as useless as he thought because he suddenly couldn't stop moving his hands on Dean's body. Lips still exploring the curves and textures of Dean's face, feeling the curve of his lips as he smiled; Sam ran his hand down his friend's side and dragged a finger down the line of Dean's hip bone. Strong, he was strong and smooth, firm and Sam could touch him for hours.

"Macaroni and cheese guy," Dean supplied and shifted up into the touch, teeth moving along his lips slowly. "Sam..." he breathed softly, eyes slowly opening and closing. "I enjoyed that, just so you know," Dean informed, lips tugging up in a wide grin.

"How do you do this?" Sam's expression softened. His fingers curled over Dean's hip, thumb trailing over the still hard flesh of his friend's rigid shaft. "How?" Dean was an absolute mystery to Sam. He was beautiful, he always knew what Sam wanted, what he needed and he never seemed to want anything for himself. Sam wasn't even sure if Dean thought of himself as a separate entity. Tilting his head slightly he dragged his lips down over a freckled cheek to Dean's mouth.

Turning into Sam's lips, Dean kissed him softly and rolled to settle back on the bed. "How do I do what?" He asked quietly, wondering if Sam needed some guidance in pleasing him. He really doubted that.

Sam's long, thin, fingers circled around Dean's cock and slid down slowly. "You, you're so..." Sam struggled for the words, his mind still whirling from pleasure. "It's like you only care about me, nothing else," he whispered. Then his mouth was crushing down on Dean's, slick and wet, teeth clacking lightly in his haste to get _closer_. He kissed far better than Mac and cheese guy too.

Moaning into the kiss, Dean pushed his body up forward into Sam's touch, wanting _more_. A few minutes later he pulled back with a soft gasp as Sam's fingers slid along him, sparking sensation up through him like the most tangible warmth, like the bright rays of the sun were shooting through every part of his being. "You. Only. Always," he breathed, hands lifting to clutch at Sam's shoulders. His body was already so responsive, close to that swirling end he enjoyed so much, and his hips lifted up quicker into the touch.

Sliding his tongue forward Sam swept it across the roof of Dean's mouth, smooth teeth, the heat of their tongues tangled together. Squeezing Dean's cock firmly he let his hand move up to stroke just below the head; he knew the man's body, knew what Dean liked.

Sam loved watching Dean's face as he _felt_ things - his eyes darkened, his lips were glistening and even his cheeks flushed. Sam smiled against the man's mouth - it was as though he was making Dean real with his kisses. Sweeping his thumb over the head of Dean's cock he felt the slick fluid leaking from it and stroked faster, pulling back to watch the expressions shooting across Dean's face.

A sharp shudder rocked down Dean's spine and he moaned Sam's name before surging forward to crush their lips together. His hands locked up into Sam's hair, holding him there, the only thing steady while the rest of his body rocked and shifted upward. Dean was only given the hint of a warning, his skin overheating until he felt he might just combust, hips jerking up as his release shot through him. His hands loosened enough to allow him to fall back onto the bed, blinking rapidly as his body coursed under the pleasure.

Sam kissed Dean until he could feel the man starting to relax back against the mattress. He kissed Dean like they were more lovers than friends - like he loved him. _Like he was in love with him._ Shifting back ever-so-slowly Sam smiled, locking his gaze with Dean's and he slid down the side of his body. Blinking slowly he licked his lips once then - eyes still on Dean's - lapped at the release splashed on dean's abs. Slick and already cooling it was unusual, not what Sam expected. Salty-sweet, not bitter - different. Dean's body was still twitching, his abs tightening under Sam's tongue.

"Wow," he breathed, eyes slightly wide as he stared down at Sam. "You... I feel you always surprise me," Dean informed and chuckled softly, falling back into the mattress and stretching against the still pleasant warmth still humming through him. "I wish this was mine forever," he whispered, not realizing he spoken the words aloud until they were there, hanging between them. Dean didn't often slip up like that and it made him frown slightly.

Licking the last of Dean's belly clean Sam sighed softly, licked his lips and shifted so he was lying half over Dean's warm body. "Wish what was yours forever?" Leaning on Dean's chest he looked up at him, frowning slightly at the slightly sad expression on his friend's face.

Wrapping his arms around Sam he pulled him up close, holding him firmly against his body. "You," he whispered, pressing a kiss to Sam's temple and sighing softly. "How are you feeling? Should we go get you some greasy food?" Dean had heard that was a good thing to eat post hangover, even though he knew Sam didn't often overindulge in the greasy meals.

"Wait," Sam's lips pressed together firmly and he held on to Dean. "You said you'd always be with me until I told you to go? Is that not the truth?" He couldn't help the way his fingers dug into the back of Dean's shoulders - every time he thought that Dean might someday be gone - it struck a chord of panic in his heart.

Smiling softly, Dean shook his head. "It's the truth. I will never go unless, well, you know those things." His fingers slide through Sam's hair and he closed his eyes. "So, I will always be yours. But..." His body fluttered slightly and his lips turned down. "I'm sorry Sam. This is me not at my best, I think it was the orgasm, it's shaken my senses. My thoughts are getting the better of me."

"But what?" Sam was determined to see this other side of Dean. "Tell me," he murmured, hoping his eyes revealed how much he felt for Dean. "Don't keep secrets." He leaned into Dean's fingers as they moved through his hair. Pulling himself up closer Sam brushed his lips against Dean's. "Tell me," he whispered.

The suggestion that Dean would keep secrets from Sam made his heart clench and he opened his eyes, quick to meet Sam's gaze. "I will always be yours. But... you won't always be mine." He frowned slightly and shrugged. "Does that make sense?"

"No, I don't understand," Sam shook his head slightly. "You said you'd be with me - I'll never ask you to leave." Laughing nervously he pushed up and rubbed both hands on his face for a few moments. "I wouldn't ever tell you to go. I know I can be stupid sometimes, selfish," he shrugged. Turning slowly he glanced over his shoulder, "Is this about Mathew? He's not, he doesn't _mean_ what you mean to me."

Not wanting to upset Sam further Dean pushed up, curling around Sam to pull him close and wishing he'd never said anything. "I think it was only because... you didn't tell me about Tom's party. And you were gone all night. I just worried, even though I knew you were okay because I would have been aware if you weren't. It's nothing though. I know you'd never ask me to leave. I love you," he insisted quietly, sliding back slightly to give Sam room to move in case he was still upset.

"It's okay for me to go out, that doesn't mean that...” Sam didn't even know anymore what it didn't mean. Sometimes, he wanted Dean to get mad, fight back, fight _for_ him. It was stupid. Sighing Sam slid to the edge of the bed and picked up his boxers. "Never mind, I'm sorry. Next time I'm gonna be gone all night I'll-" He laughed coldly. "How exactly do I let you know, Dean? Angel telepathy? Can you answer the phone here at the house? Or should I just wiggle my nose and call your name?"

Standing, Sam stepped into his boxers and started to hunt around the room for his jeans. "I'm gonna call Tommy and see if he's alive - maybe get some lunch with him." As his eyes moved over the bed Sam noticed the pendent lying nestled in the tangled mass of sheets. Stepping forward he picked it up and slipped it over his head. It was the first time Dean had ever given him a gift, something he could take with him.

 _This was what I meant._ Dean thought silently and closed his eyes, opening them a moment later and shifting under the fresh clothes. Sometimes he wished he had to put clothing on just so he'd have something to do to counteract the crushing weight that curled in his spirit. He pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, curling into the smallest form possible. "I'm sorry," he whispered and the words felt tight in his throat. "Have fun."

Dean closed his eyes and rested his temple against his knees. It was foolish, to feel the ache this way. It wasn't as if Sam was his to keep, not from the real world. Dean was meant to be the background. His heart didn't really beat; no tears would fall from his cheeks no matter how much he felt like they would. The only one who made him really feel was Sam, and keeping him, holding him back, would be selfish. _I wish I was real._ He thought bitterly and sent the request upward, wondering if Rahmiel had some magic download for that. It didn't seem likely.

"Dean," Sam stopped by the bed, sadness welling up in him. "I... you can't come with me because I can't even talk to you in public. It's almost worse than not having you there at all." Stepping closer Sam sat back down behind Dean. "Hey," he slid his arm over Dean's shoulder. "What you and I have - I mean - you know that I need other people - I have to go out sometimes. God, Dean, I wish more than anything I could take you with me, talk to you outside, introduce you to people, and hold your hand..." He sighed again and leaned his cheek against Dean's back. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

That was all Dean ever wanted, Sam with him, always. Sometimes he thought nostalgically about Sam's childhood years, how they played together in the park, just him and Sam. His eyes lifted to Sam and he could see the sadness, the worry. Dean wasn't supposed to make Sam feel that way. He pasted a smile on his face and shook his head, dropping his gaze. "Go have lunch with Tom. I know you aren't going to the same school, you'll miss him. You know I'll be here," Dean settled his head back on his knees, closing his eyes and imagining Sam taking him with, holding hands, laughing with Tom in the booth of some diner.

Shaking his head slowly Sam stood up. "Fine, I'll see you later." Grabbing a shirt off the chair he pulled it down over his head and tucked the pendent inside. "Thanks again for the gift." _And for loving me_ , he didn't add. Snatching his wallet off the dresser Sam closed the door behind him and headed down the hallway. Half the time he left the house he felt like he was breaking Dean's heart and the other half - he had no idea if Dean even wanted him to stay. Wincing, he realized that he'd been biting down on his tongue. Food, lots of coffee and Tom could fill him in on the details he was missing from the party. Blinking in the bright sunlight Sam hesitated, turned back to the house then swore softly and changed direction again and headed to the car.

Dean listened to the familiar roar of the Impala and that clenching feeling in his heart tightened once more. A part of him had hoped Sam would return, would say Tom wasn't important, not after they'd just shared something so special. Dean fancied he could still taste Sam on his tongue. His mouth opened as if he could choke on a sob, but nothing came, not the should be prick of tears at his eyes. "Why..." he breathed and rolled to the side, pulling the sheet up to bury his nose in it.

"Dean?" Rahmiel's voice was soft and warm but it surprised Dean. He hadn't asked for him. The bed dipped and a hand curved over his arm. "We can all feel your pain."

"Why does it hurt like this?" Dean asked, voice once more tight through a clenched throat. He looked up at the angel, this time his eyes were sunbeam bright, no distinguishable color. "I don't understand. I can't bleed. I don't sleep. My lungs don't require oxygen but this... _this_ hurts." Dean curled his fingers into his shirt, pressing down into his heart. "It shouldn't be like this."

"Oh, Dean," Rahmiel's eyes shifted to clear ocean blue and the fingers tightened on his arm. "You're not like the rest of us. You and Sam... you defy logic."

"It's not fair," Dean insisted and pushed up until he was sitting, sliding back from the angel. But he wasn't angry, no, Dean was never really angry. "Why can't I just be one? If I'm meant to feel, then let me _feel_. Let me cry, and yell, and _make_ Sam stay with me. If I'm not meant to then..." Dean couldn't finish the thought. The idea of not kissing Sam, not touching him, not _loving_ him, it was too much to handle. "Rahmiel, please, Make this better for me."

The look on Rahmiel's face alone was enough to tell Dean he wouldn't be given a solution. "I'll see what I can do," he said softly.

It did little to settle the emptiness in him, and Dean feared it would only grow. He looked back up from the bed sheet but Rahmiel was gone. It wasn't really a surprise, this tended to happen a lot for Dean. Dropping back down onto the mattress Dean curled into Sam's smell and blew out a low breath. He wished he could sleep so he could dream about Sam and the life he'd never get to have.

-=-=-=-

From that moment on things changed, though so subtly Dean might not have noticed them if he hadn't been given so much time to himself to think. Sam spent much of his last few months before college with his friends, sometimes disappearing for two days in a row, and Dean had to force himself not to appear wherever he was to check up on him. He would know, if something was seriously wrong, if he focused hard enough he could feel Sam's elevated heart rate at times, evening out at others, slowing while he slept. The longest time was a week mid July when Sam went camping with _just the boys_. Dean didn't tell him, but there was only so much distance allowed between them, so he spent a week in the forest, far enough away to ensure Sam had his privacy, close enough to still feel him.

It confused Dean, this change between them, and the more he thought the fewer answers he came up with. It was logically how it was meant to be, Sam living his normal life and Dean the ever present background feature, but it merely left him sad and hollow. The worst part was seeing how it affected Sam. The man seemed to tread with caution around him, as if he worried anything he said might spark some fight even though Dean never fought; never got angry. The more time that passed, especially that week in the forest, Dean felt less and less connected to anything. His mind recalled the taste of Sam's flesh and he didn't feel like an angel. His heart yearned for that closeness to Sam and he didn't feel like he existed. Weeks continued to pass and Dean wondered how long it would be until he was once more needed like he had been when Sam was a child.

The drive to California was an odd bright spot in the emotionally turbulent months. Together, alone in the car Sam once more opened up with him, laughed and joked, basked in some feeling of freedom. He'd left things with his dad on a surprisingly pleasant note, promising to call, get together over the winter break, keep himself safe and protected at all times.

Sam seemed more genuinely happy on the drive then he had for months and Dean basked in it, savoured each dimpled smile and warm glance meant just for him. The night before they were due to arrive they spent curled together on the motel bed and kissed for hours. It would always remain a warm and pleasant memory in Dean's mind, the taste of Sam's lips, the tangible feeling of love crossing between them. He knew it would likely have to hold him over for quite some time.

When they arrived at the campus it was bustling with students, bright sunshine illuminated the grass and made it glow a vibrant green and Dean trailed along behind Sam as he found his room and checked in. His roommate Nathan seemed like an alright guy, a little on the geeky side, his side of the room already decked out with electronic equipment Dean had only seen on TV, but Sam and him seemed to connect over it. Dean was relieved because Sam had mentioned his worry about sharing a room with a complete stranger, sensing that Sam was pleased with the situation made him pleased in turn.

For the first few weeks of the new school year Dean trailed Sam to each class. He was on constant alert, senses sweeping out to check for any beings that might be unwanted. It appeared that Sam was still slipping under the radar and Dean allowed himself some relief without slipping in his patrol. It never hurt to be safe. The tension in Sam was growing again; Dean could feel it every time Sam's eyes slid his way along the walk. He didn't speak to him in public, just as it had been since that conversation on the hill so many years ago. Back then it had been a game, now it was what Sam understood. Talking to _yourself_ wasn't a way to fit in.

By the end of the first month Sam had settled into a routine and Dean had simply... settled. It was odd not to speak with Sam often, Nathan seemed to be in the room most of the time Sam was, and he sometimes found himself remaining invisible so Sam wouldn't feel the need to look his way apologetically when their conversation had to draw to a halt with his roommate's arrival.

Sam didn't need his help with homework anymore, which was alright because Dean hadn't asked for knowledge on his new subjects anyway. And, almost inevitably, the time came when Sam explained tersely that he didn't want Dean following him around campus anymore. It was too hard for him to keep up conversations with his new friends while Dean hovered along in the background.

So the following morning Dean remained behind while Sam gathered up his book bag and headed out the door. Thus the process of waiting began once more. He followed Sam in spirit, kept his eyes closed and his mind open to any possible dangers on the campus, and tried not to spend too much time noting the days that had passed since they last touched. He tried to be a guardian angel only, tried to look as happy as possible when Sam arrived back to the room and offered shorter and shorter responses about his day.

Dean _tried_. But he could feel everything he'd always wanted and hoped for slipping through his not real fingers and his eyes stung with unproduced tears, and his chest clenched painfully. Dean had never been so unhappy in his existence, made only worse by guilt when he saw how happy Sam seemed to be. It broke him down but Dean pushed through, for Sam.

It was all he knew how to do.

-=-=-=-

Sam had spent months looking forward to being away at school. He'd looked forward to buying brand new text books, meeting people, he'd even been amused by the fact that it took him weeks to be certain of which direction to head when he was trying to find a certain building or a special collections library. What he hadn't been prepared for was how quickly his relationship with Dean would change. He'd expected change. He hadn't expected it to happen so quickly or so drastically.

It had started simply enough. Sam was always around people. He got along well with his roommate, Nathan. By the end of September he'd taught Sam how to steal satellite TV and even managed to show him how to write a key gen program so Sam could get all the software he needed that he couldn't afford.

Learning, taking classes, coming up with new ideas and changing his old beliefs was great. It was a new world and Sam happily immersed himself in it. Roommate, study partners, tutoring on the weekends for some extra money; soon there was barely a moment when Sam was alone. _Barely a moment when he could be with Dean._

Oh, he knew Dean was still there. Over the years Sam had developed an almost unerring ability to sense Dean's presence. Maybe, it was more than that, maybe it was just the absolute trust he had developed in his friend. Why give up time at school, time studying, and time enjoying the buzz of conversation over cheap beer at the local student's union bar?

It was new and exciting, freeing, it was hours of time spent with people who knew nothing of hunting. They were different. Sam's new friends worried about grades and who they were dating on the weekend, whether they would get enough hours at their part-time restaurant job. There was something refreshing about being surrounded by such a different world; Sam was surrounded by people who were living the normal life that he'd always wanted.

By October, the leaves were changing colors on the trees and there was the cool scent of winter in the morning air. Sam tugged his jacket closer around his neck in the morning even though it _was_ California. The buzz was about the big off-campus Halloween party. Everyone was going; even Nathan was going to be tearing himself away from his computer to dress as Morpheus. Sam had to admit it was fitting. As for Sam? Halloween had never been his favourite time of year - as far as he was concerned it was a little too close to the reality he was spending so much time trying to escape. But, Nathan, Kevin and Bryan had persuaded him to dress up at least. Reluctantly Sam had agreed to go dressed as Agent Smith. It was a theme - he was told - he'd ruin it if the cast of characters from the Matrix wasn't complete. As far as costumes went it wasn't that bad; a black suit they'd picked up on their thrift store shopping spree and a pair of dark glasses. Concentrating hard enough Sam could convince himself that he was dressed for a job interview rather than Halloween. There was always beer as a distraction.

Being around Dean began to sadden Sam. It was hard, leaving Dean every day made Sam feel so guilty that sometimes he stayed away as long as possible - just so he wouldn't have to see Dean's face when he finally returned. There was always a broad smile waiting for him when he came home, a gentle warm greeting that made Sam's heart ache. Each night Sam would get undressed and slip into bed knowing that Dean was around somewhere... waiting. He waited patiently every night and each night Sam hoped that Dean would come and just claim him, take him back. Make things better.

Not once did Dean come to Sam until Sam's heart finally felt like it would break in two if he didn't whisper the one thing that would let him fall asleep. "Dean." As soon as the name left his lips he would feel Dean pressed up against his back.

The time passed quickly and before he knew it Sam was getting ready for the party, drinking a beer with Nathan and laughing until he thought he would have a seizure. It seemed Nathan couldn't stop _being_ Morpheus once kitted out with the mirrored glasses and long trench coat. The whole thing was just so ridiculous it was killing Sam. But - it was fun. Light-hearted, harmless fun and Sam couldn't have been more thrilled even though he'd never admit it.

Kevin and Brian tumbled through the door to Sam and Nathan's room at about ten pm. Just in time, they assured Sam to head out and get to the party as it was starting to get revved up. Nathan grabbed the beer from their small fridge and Sam hunted around for his keys. Hesitating for a few moments at the door Sam looked around, knowing there would be no sign of Dean. "Do you want me to stay?" Whispering the question he didn't bother waiting - the answer was always the same.

Sam drank, a lot. Well, not as much as he had at Tom's end of high school party. No - he would probably never drink that much again, but he drank more than enough to be dancing at one a.m. when he suddenly found himself dancing with a pretty good looking cop. A guy in a cop costume, not a cop. Either way, he was hot and Sam was lonely and the cop - Joshua - said all the right things. He was sweet, charming, he made Sam laugh; he introduced himself to Nathan and laughed when Kevin winked at Sam. They danced until they needed a breather and Joshua fetched them sodas - they went outside for some air and Sam learned that Joshua was also in his first year. They had a lot in common. Joshua was an only child and had grown up in a small town in North Dakota. Like Sam, he'd left as soon as he could, anxious for a new life and different choices. They talked outside until Brian tackled them and insisted that they come back in and cheer Nathan up; he'd struck out for the third time that evening and was starting to think there wasn't a woman alive who would date him.

The night passed quickly. The music was hypnotizing, its dull base beat slamming against Sam's chest while he moved on the dance floor. Joshua was never very far away but it wasn't until he grabbed Sam's shoulder and pulled him close that Sam's heart started to beat faster. They danced long enough for the music to begin it's spiral down to slower songs; hips bumping softly, fingers hooked together, heads close so they could still talk to each other over the beat. _I want you_. Joshua's lips were warm, soft against Sam's neck as he whispered the words and, for once, Sam tried to forget.

It didn't take long to find Nathan and secure a promise from him to stay with Brian. It wasn't like Sam had ever asked before. He dragged Joshua from the party, stepping over the debris, laughing; they walked quickly stopping only once or twice to steal beer-flavoured kisses from each other's mouths. Joshua's laughter was deep and vibrated against Sam's chest, he smelled fresh like clean clothes and the faint scent of cologne. _C'mon, Sam, I want you. Don't want to wait._ The words lingered in Sam's mind - shoving the last hesitancy away.

The room was dark when Sam pushed the door open and he'd only just managed to sweep his eyes around the room to ensure Dean wasn't there when Joshua had him pressed up against the door. The kisses were urgent, lips sliding and teeth nipping gently as Sam's suit jacket was pushed off his shoulders. There was no shyness, nothing about Joshua was tentative - he knew what he wanted and Sam's body responded to every touch - every firm request. Stumbling across the room they crashed down onto Sam's bed and their laughter echoed around the room; Sam's shirt was thrown to the side and he slowly pulled the pieces of Joshua's costume off letting them clatter to the floor beside the bed; handcuffs, hat, baton and soon he was loosening Joshua's tie to get his first touches of the man's over-heated flesh.

A soft moan escaped Sam's lips as Joshua pressed him back against the bed, hands moving restless over his body. Anticipation was spinning through Sam's body like an electric current. _God_ , he could feel how much the other man wanted him, hear it in the way he gasped and the gravelly way he moaned Sam's name. Letting his head fall to the side Sam tugged Joshua's lips to his neck, laughing softly when he heard the man growl even as he gave in and bit down on the tender flesh below Sam's ear lobe.

He sensed more than saw Dean. It was that connection they shared that allowed him to see the flash of green eyes, the wavering form of his friend. His heart clenched, stomach flopping uneasily as his body tightened under Joshua's hands. "Hey," Joshua's voice was thick and heavy in the air between them, "you alright?"

Smiling, Sam turned toward the voice. Panting softly he blinked up at Joshua for a few moments as his mind tried to sort out the flood of emotion bombarding him. "S'okay officer, just gotta... bathroom." He nipped at the pouting bottom lip in front of him, smiling against it and squeezing Joshua's hard ass. "Don't you move." Sliding out from under the man's body Sam blew out a breath and turned the stereo on; music flooded the room and Sam paced to the bathroom. Shutting the door behind him he flicked the light switch on and hissed "Dean, what the fuck are you doing here?"

The image of Sam and the man, hands moving and sliding over each other’s bodies, lips crashing together with heated passion, was coursing through Dean on a constant replay. It felt as if the tiny little pieces he'd been clinging to for the last few months were finally falling away.

At least before he'd clung to some hope that Sam still _wanted_ him but it was no longer true. He was losing Sam, maybe already had lost him, and judging from the harsh curl of Sam's voice, it was already too late. "I'm sorry," he whispered, appearing across the room and staring hard down at the floor so Sam couldn't see how completely destroyed he felt. "I invaded your privacy, Sam. I'm sorry." He whispered meekly, fingers curling together behind his back like a child scolded.

To say Sam was rattled would be an absolute understatement. Of course he'd known that Dean was _somewhere_ , maybe somehow he'd even though that Dean was near - would stop him. "What... what were you doing? Why were you there?" Dean looked almost broken, smaller, like he was already admitting defeat. _Defeat?_ Sam lowered his voice, "were you trying to stop me?"

"I'm always there," Dean pointed out, sinking back until he leaned against the wall. "I'm always waiting Sam, in your room, where else would I be? Had I... if I'd known you were going to bring someone back... I..." What could he have done? Sat in the hall? Pretended like his spirit wasn't slowly unravelling and crushing under the heavy knowledge that he wasn't enough any longer. "I'm sorry Sam, I can wait out here. Or. Somewhere else."

Sam's heart clenched tight, sending waves of cold out through his body with each painful beat. "So, you didn't want me to stop?" Closing the distance between them Sam leaned on the wall, one hand on either side of Dean's head - forcing his friend to look up. The craziest mix of emotions was fighting it out in Sam's body. Joshua, just on the other side of the door, Dean - soft, sad eyes finally turned up toward him.

Dean was impossibly torn, and he sank back as far as he could, trying to slip through the wall away from the light in Sam's eyes. He could feel heat radiating from him, could smell alcohol on his breath, the faint mixture of scents that had to have come from the other man. Sam wanted him, that man, wanted to touch him and kiss him and hold his hand in public and go out on dates, introduce him to friends. Sam wanted to be _normal_ and Dean could never give him that. He could love Sam with all his being, all his essence, every single little part of him made from all the this and that things, built and designed for this one man alone, but he couldn't give Sam a normal life. Dean's eyes dropped to the ground slowly, unable to meet the intensity of Sam's gaze. "You want him," he whispered, shoulders dropping heavily.

"I want-" Sam could feel himself start to shake. "I can't do this, I can't keep doing this." Pushing off the wall he took a few steps backwards and bumped into the counter. His breath was getting shallower, jaw twitching as he stared across the small room. "This is never gonna change is it. You'll never ask me..." It felt like some sort of prison sentence; he'd want Dean and Dean would never say the simplest words to keep Sam for himself. He just didn't have it in him. He'd fight to the death to protect Sam - and yet never, never say a word to keep Sam with him. Never ask him to stay.

Frowning, Dean felt like Sam was slipping through his fingers, almost constantly nowadays, and he reached out. If he could just _touch_ Sam, things would be better. They could be better again. "Sam, I don't know what to do. I don't know how to make it better. What do you want me to do? Should I? You know I'll do whatever it is you want. I can be better," he insisted in an urgent, quiet whisper.

Sam threw his hands up, "Don't touch me." When his fingers started to tremble he closed them into fists and let them fall to his side. "I don't need this, I can't live like this." His voice softened, eyes drifting closed for a few moments. "Dean, are you ever... do you ever get mad because of what I do. You know, want to just shake me and tell me stay with you? Be with you?" Lifting his gaze slowly he studied his friend's face.

Dean's hand felt heavy as he dropped it, that all too familiar press of not quite there tears worked along his eyes and he shrank along the wall. "I... I want you to be happy." He insisted, looking up at Sam with wide eyes. His heart ached, his _soul_ ached, and he wished that Sam understood. He was always waiting, always eager for any moment Sam gave him attention, but how could he ask him to give up what was _real_? "Please Sammy. I'll do whatever... whatever you need. What do you need, Sammy? What do you need from me?" Dean slid forward once more, trying to push through the wall growing between them.

"I don't need you." Sam's voice was hardly above a whisper. _Want_ \- he wanted Dean with all his heart but it would just never be something he could have. "I just... I," Sam growled softly, fighting back a surge of emotion. "I _don't_ need you, I can take care of myself - it's been safe ever since I came here." He just wanted to spend time with Dean, and there was so little time anymore. It was a different word. He wasn't Dean's _Sammy_ anymore.

"Sam?" There was a quiet tap at the door before Joshua's muffled voice met Sam's ears. "You pass out on me?"

Starting, Sam's eyes darted to the door. "I'm good, just a sec," he called out.

Turning his eyes away from the door Sam did a double take. He was alone. Sighing, Sam stood up straighter - a frown sliding onto his face. Everything felt different, flatter, _Dean_. "Dean?" Stepping slowly toward the wall where his friend had just been Sam held out a shaking hand. "Dean?" His hand hit the wall at the same moment as the _lack_ of Dean's presence slammed into him like a cold wind. "I didn't mean that..." Panic welled up inside Sam's chest and he fell forward against the wall. "Dean? Please. I didn't mean for you to go..." Tears welled in burning eyes as Sam blinked and tried to look around the room for some sign of the angel.

Whipping around Sam fumbled with the door and yanked it open, falling into the main room. "Dean?" His voice was laced with fear, regret biting at his chest.

Joshua bolted upright, stumbling forward. "Sam? Jesus - you scared the sh-"

"Get out, you've gotta go - I'm sorry. I"m... I'm sick." Sam stumbled back until he was leaning against the wall by the door, hand fumbling blindly with the lock.

Blinking, Joshua hesitated a few moments and then started to pick up his things off the floor by Sam's bed. "You okay there, Sam?" Wide-eyed he watched Sam's face as he gathered the discarded pieces of his costume.

"I'm sorry, it's just - drinking," Sam murmured trying desperately to hold himself together long enough to get Joshua out the door.

Frowning, Joshua moved closer to the door and stopped in front of Sam. "You're okay? I mean I can deal with the leaving thing - but you're not gonna like - I mean... you're okay?"

Forcing a strained smile Sam nodded. "I'm okay." Pulling the door open, "just really too much," _too much_ , "drinking." He touched the tips of his fingers to Joshua's cheek. "I'm just gonna lie down."

The strangest expression flitted across Joshua's face. He obviously wondered what was going on, almost cared enough already to pursue it - then he was just moving through the door and mumbling quietly about seeing Sam again.

The moment the door was closed Sam fell back against and slid down to the floor. "Dean," he whispered, "come back."

Sam had never been completely alone. His entire life he'd know that Dean was there. He squeezed his eyes closed against his tears. "Dean, I'm gonna just wait here. Please, come back." Sucking in a shudder of a breath Sam let his head fall back hard against the door. "I'll be right here." He was alone. He was alone for however long he sat there waiting, leaning against the door wondering when Dean would come back.

When he finally crawled into bed the morning sun was already tainting the night sky. Closing his eyes Sam took a few deep breaths and whispered, "Dean." And, for the first time in his entire life, there was no one there, no gentle flutter of the sheets, no warmth pressed up against his back. Turning his face into his pillow, Sam cried like he hadn't since he was a child, maybe hadn't ever because he'd never lost the most important thing in his life before. He fell asleep eventually, or passed out just from the sheer weight of what he'd done - either way - the pain stopped for a while only to be replaced by dreams of soft fingertips and gentle murmurs.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm not getting anything sir."

"It might be too late."

"Alright, call it."

"Time of death three- wait. Did he just move?"

Voices. Dean could register unfamiliar voices, loud and sharp in his mind, a mixture of words that almost didn't sound... right. A small groan fell from his parched lips as he turned on the bed. Everything felt so _real_. Solid. The scratchy slide of sheets, the murmur of words growing as his movement seemed to trigger who was talking into motion, and beyond that. Dean could feel his heart beat, his lungs expanding and contracting, his stomach churning uncomfortably.

"Sir? Sir, can you hear me?"

Fingers pressed into his jaw and Dean peeled his eyes open. They felt heavy, stuck together, and he winced immediately when bright lights glared down at him. The fingers pushed harder, forcing his head to the side, and Dean's eyelid was pulled back once more, something sharp and white shining down in a flash. It hurt. It _hurt_. Dean's heart seemed to kick start and he struggled to move against the touch.

"It's alright sir, you're going to be alright. I just need you to keep laying back for me."

Dean was confused, stunned, mind reeling into overtime. What had happened? How had he ended up here? How could these people see and touch him? The last thing he remembered was the bathroom, Sam, _I don't need you_.

Dean's eyes snapped open. Was this some weird version of hell? Had he so completely failed in his mission that Sam letting him go had sent him to the worse place imaginable? _Sam_. He didn't need him anymore. Dean didn't know how to begin processing that. Dean surged up against the arm on his chest, struggling to control his muscles that felt loose and uncomfortable, unused.

"Sir! Please, stay. Stay down. Damnit, will someone get me something to get him under control."

Dean parted his lips and gasped, struggling to get his throat to work, groaning around the thick, dry rasp. "Sa..." he began and pushed forward. He needed to get to Sam. If he did, then they could... if this were real. If this wasn't hell - Dean was still unable to tell - then Sam had to be missing him at least. Dean could apologize. They could still make this better. He struggled harder forward until something sharp pricked along his skin. Dean looked down, surprised by the pain, and frowned at the slender needle inserted into his arm. Then everything spun and blurred, faces and lights mixing and clashing together before he fell back down onto the bed into darkness.

-=-=-=-

Things remained fuzzy for Dean for a stretch of time he couldn't determine. The second time he woke he was alone and it had taken only moments for the panic and fear to set in. These emotions, so new and intense, worked along his system and he once more fought to push out of the bed. But he was uncoordinated, he pulled the IV from his arm and it stung, he slipped on the floor because these legs were real and solid. Machines sprang to life, echoing warning sirens and Dean skittered away from the noise, sharp and piercing in his mind. It didn't take long for strong arms to wrap around him and drag him to his feet. Dean struggled until the same prick from before returned to his arm and the world darkened.

The next time he woke he was in a different room, no longer hooked to machines. The walls around him were white, the floor white as well. Dean didn't know where exactly he was but the distinct feeling of _confinement_ pulsed through him and anxiety shot his heart into over time. He stumbled for the door, half crawling across the floor and tugged at it but it remained firmly locked. He tried banging against it, gasping out soundless screams, but all he received was someone shouting out him to knock it off.

Dean curled into himself in the middle of the room and tried to understand why every part of him felt so... overloaded. The emotions filtered through out of his control. Fear for his situation, panic that no one would be able to help him, yearning for Sam, anger. Oh _anger_. Dean wanted to scream and yell, throw himself against the walls until someone came and explained this too him. Was this real? Was he _real_?

He fell asleep before someone arrived with food and woke just as the door was closing. A tray set before him, lumps of indistinguishable items piled into tiny indents in the plastic, a paper cup containing water. Dean went for that first, his throat felt dry and painful, and he brought the cup slowly to his lips, sipping experimentally. It didn't really taste like anything in particular but it was _wonderful_. Cool and wet sliding across his tongue and down his throat, giving him enough purchase to drag his tongue across his lips and soothe the uncomfortable scratch.

The food didn't look exactly appealing but Dean's stomach churned in a sickening way and Dean thought he might be hungry. He stopped for a moment and marvelled at the idea. Hungry? He never thought it was possible. Shifting slowly forward Dean poked experimentally at the first lump of white, bringing it up to sniff curiously. He couldn't name the scent. Before, the only thing Dean had ever smelt was Sam. It hurt like someone reaching through his chest and squeezing his heart to admit he couldn't remember Sam's particular scent.

Tongue snaking out tentatively Dean swiped at the fluffy white on his finger and rolled the taste along the inside of his mouth. It wasn't bad, though it didn't make him as happy as the water had. Dean scooped more of the white up with his finger and sucked it off, deciding he recognized the hint of salt from _before_.

It felt warm and rich running down his throat and Dean swallowed around it, scooping more up, faster and faster until none remained. The next item was the same texture through a weird, bright green, and Dean was slightly more apprehensive to try it. Which turned out to be accurate since one taste test with the tip of his tongue had him recoiling and wiping his finger free quickly.

Dean vaguely recognized the third item as chicken sticks. He hadn't made a point of noting what Sam ate often but when he was a boy these things were all he ordered from the fast food restaurants. He was slightly more eager to try them; thinking of how pleased Sammy looked, wishing he had some of the dark sauce Sam used to dip them in so excitedly.

The meat tasted weird, but not unpleasant, thick enough to require him to chew since the first bit he attempted to swallow got caught his throat and made him cough for several long minutes. Once he got past the initial newness, he relished the two pieces, enjoying how they seemed to settle in his stomach warm and full.

The last item wiggled when he moved the tray and looked a slightly unnatural shade of red. Dean poked at it curiously and tried to scoop some on his fingers but it instantly slid away. His attention drifted to the plastic silverware along the side and he considered it for a minute before grasping at the spoon. Mimicking the way he'd seen Sam hold the item he scooped at the wiggly red stuff and brought it up, nearly dropping it when something loud crashed out in the hall. Straightening himself Dean carefully tipped the item back and frowned at its sweetness. It wasn't really bad, but it left something strange and tart across his tongue so he set the spoon down and deciding against having more.

Now that the food was in his system his body felt less shaky but his mind was still racing and churning with confusion. It didn't seem like there would be any answers coming and that worried him, scared him, and Dean slowly crawled back into the bed to try and make sense of things.

-=-=-=-

Dean only noted the passing of the days by the variety of food that was brought to him. He was fairly certain he was in a hospital, that much he'd determined the first time a woman wearing a white lab coat came in and attempted to talk to him. Dean was pretty sure he could speak, even if the theory went untested, but instinct had him keeping his mouth shut despite her questions. How could he trust these people? They kept him locked in this room without windows, leaving him to figure out the toilet thing - that had been awkward and weird and Dean was still trying not to think about it - and only allowing him to leave escorted by a big bulking man who grabbed his arm too tight and guided him into a shower stall. That had been even more weird and awkward since the man had needed to turn the shower on himself and stood just across the room while Dean experienced the first spray of lukewarm water over his skin.

The foods he tried varied in weird colors, often the mushy paste from the first day, always with the wiggly red thing he didn't really care for. Dean thought he should know these items, should be able to name them, but he'd never really required the knowledge before. And he wasn't sure all the information Rahmiel had given him was there. He could name basic things, could understand what was asked of him, but everything was so _different_.

It was loud at times, too quiet at others, cold and empty. Lonely. Dean felt like he was just a thing being tolerated, possibly an annoyance, and the strange way his emotions shifted so quickly left him spinning.

The fourth time the woman in the lab coat showed up Dean was ready. The moment her mouth open he cut her off, spitting out a quick, "Sam."

She looked curiously at him and stepped forward, papers lifting so she could press a pen into them. "Sam? Is that your name?"

Dean shook his head roughly and swallowed, working up the courage to explain further. "Sam Winchester. I need... Sam. Stanford. Sam Winchester. Stanford." Dean felt absurdly proud of himself getting that much out and his throat stung slightly but the woman appeared to be writing down the words, continuing to give him puzzled looks. He understood that Sam might not want to see him, might want nothing to do with him, but if he could just get him to come for a little while then maybe Sam could get him out of here. Dean had no idea what to do then, but being in this room made him feel as if he were being crushed on all sides.

"Sam Winchester, is your friend?" The woman asked slowly as if Dean wouldn't understand the words otherwise. He nodded quickly and wondered at the sharp twinge in him that compelled him to roll his eyes at her slightly patronizing tone. "And he's at Stanford?" She confirmed once more and Dean nodded again. "Alright... well. We'll see what we can do then."

As she left the room Dean felt the first suggestion of something similar to hope that he'd felt since waking in this place. In this body. _Real_. He settled on the stiff mattress once more and closed his eyes, trying to count his heartbeats as they passed.

-=-=-=-

There was nothing for Sam to do but live with what he'd done. It was days before he stopped speaking to Dean when he was alone - hoping that he would hear that gentle voice at his ear or feel warm breath on the back of his neck. He couldn't explain to anyone why he looked like he'd lost everything; there were dark circles under his eyes, his expression was strained, nails bitten to the quick. What could he say? He'd lost everything? He'd lost his friend - his best friend - and more than that he'd lost the man he was in love with. It wasn't until the first moment Dean didn't appear at the sound of his name that Sam realized how he felt. And then it was entirely too late. He tried not to let his mind wander to what might have happened to Dean. The very idea that Dean might not exist anymore was something that snatched Sam's breath away.

Weeks passed before Sam would leave his room for anything other than classes. It was stupid - the need to sit there and wait for Dean - the reality was that Dean could have found him anywhere if he'd wanted too. The angel had never been very far away before, never unable to find his _Sammy_. Reality was just far too much for Sam to face because each moment without Dean was Sam's fault. Each long moment he stared out the window, waiting, wishing he could take back the words that he had uttered in frustration.

And the worst time of all was the night. Sam had spent almost every night of his life with Dean's warmth pressed against him, an arm thrown over his waist, lips and breath ghosting over the back of his neck. The one thing that Sam couldn't change, would _never_ let go of was whispering Dean's name each night just after he closed his eyes. There was never an answering touch, never a single movement and each night Sam's heart would clench tight with regret. _I don't need you._ The words ran through Sam's mind constantly like some sort of punishment whipping at his soul. It wasn't enough that he had to live with Dean's absence - he had to live with the fact that it was his fault.

When Sam's phone rang he was trying to concentrate on a paper on medical ethics. The words were swimming a bit in front of his eyes and he snatched up his cell phone. It had been a while since he'd heard from his father; it was probably time for them to check in with one another. Flipping the phone open Sam rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. "Hello."

"Sam Winchester?" The woman asked, tone slightly curious and surprised.

"Yeah," Sam's hand dropped to his desk.

"This is Dr. Conrad over at the Stanford hospital. We have a friend of yours. At least he seems to think he's a friend. A young man. Do you... have any idea who this could be? Or how he might know you? He said your name specifically, and that you attended the university."

Brow furrowed Sam sat up. "Uh, what?" Shaking his head slowly in surprise Sam leaned his elbow on the desk. "I, uh, don't know of anyone who's missing or anything." He paused. "You said he used my name?" Sam was already running through his friends last whereabouts in his mind.

"Yes, he turned up about two weeks ago. Apparently they found him passed out in some ally. He really hasn't said anything but your name but um, he's about six foot or so? Short brown hair, green eyes, pale skin. Freckles I believe though he doesn't really like anyone getting close. He doesn't seem very... aware of things. Outside asking for you."

"Freckles," Sam echoed. There was no way it could be Dean. Sam wouldn't let himself even hope for that - but the Doctor's description had gone straight to Sam's heart. Racing against his rib cage the heavy muscle beat faster than it had in weeks. "I... should I come and see if I know him?" Sam pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes, head aching suddenly.

The woman let out an audible sigh of relief. "That would be very helpful. We're sort of at a loss without even knowing his name. When do you think you'll be able to come by?"

"Now," Sam shoved his books away from him on the desk. "I'll, yeah, I'll come now. What part of the hospital?" Sam knew where the hospital was but he'd never been there.

"Third floor on the east wing, the psych ward. I'll be waiting at the front desk. Thank you, Sam; even if you aren't able to help, I appreciate you taking the time."

It wasn't as if Sam could ignore the call, sit in his room writing a paper while he _wondered_. Freckles, green eyes - sure - it could be a million people but it could be Dean. He'd had to admit to himself that the hope was there. Sam had no idea where it even came from - but he'd felt it spark to life the moment the Doctor had described her patient. Of course, Dean would have known more, used his own name, given her some details.

Before Sam could convince himself either way, he was pulling his jacket on and heading out the door to fire up the Impala. The hospital was about ten minutes away and it ended up taking Sam longer to find somewhere to park than to make the trip.

The hospital was bustling with people but the activity faded away as he moved through the long hallways to the East Wing. The elevator ride felt like it took about a million years and then he was moving back out into the bright sterile light of the hall. There were two women at the front desk. Sam smiled, "I'm looking for Dr. Conrad?" Brushing his hair back off his forehead Sam glanced at one woman then his eyes settled on the woman who stood.

"Sam?" Dr. Conrad stepped forward and gave him a brief smile before offering her hand. "Thanks for coming down here so quickly. This shouldn't take more than a minute." She nodded swiftly before gesturing to a set of doors across the room. The nurse at the front desk buzzed them through and she held the door for Sam until he joined her to walk down the hall. "There's a window in the door, so we'll just have you look through that and hopefully..." Dr. Conrad's eyes were slightly sad as she shrugged, drawing up to a stop at the fourth door along the right hallway and extending a hand to it.

A smile twitched on then off Sam's lips as he stepped closer to the door. Nerves jittery and strained Sam stepped up to the door and pressed his eyes shut for a few moments. His hand fluttered nervously to the door beside the small window and his lashes fluttered open.

The man was sitting on the floor, the center of the room; knees pulled up to his chest and held there by his arms. Sam's head fell forward against the window, shock ripping through his chest. "I... it's Dean." Clearing his throat, his fingers curled into a fist against the cold metal door. "It's my Dean."

Relief flashed for a moment on the doctor's face before she nodded slowly. "Dean. Uh, your Dean?" Her head tilted slightly to the side, eyes narrowing slightly.

Shaking his head Sam smiled weakly allowing his shock to show on his face. "My," _be a hunter, Sam. Think._ "He's my brother." It wasn't hard to sound shocked, Sam had figured that he had lost Dean forever and now, faced with the familiar face behind the locked door - he began to wonder at what his friend would be like. "We, sorry-" Sam turned and sank back against the wall. "This is a bit of a shock; I haven't seen my brother in a long time." His eyes snapped up to Dr. Conrad's, "Can I talk to him?"

She looked hesitant for a moment, glancing inside the window before looking back at Sam and slowly nodding. "Technically, I shouldn't, but maybe you can convince him to let us help." With a soft sigh she pulled at a card key around her neck and slid it across the reader, tugging on the handle as the lock clicked. "I'll be right out here, try not to over stimulate him alright? He's very... skittish." She nodded at Sam before twisting the handle and pulling the door open.

Though Dean had no real concept of time in this place, his body seemed to know when meal time was coming, so the door opening at this moment was unusual. His eyes lifted, expecting to see the doctor there, and widened when Sam stepped forward. Dean could _feel_ the race of his heart, the quickening of his pulse, and he pushed himself forward, stumbling slightly on his feet and wavering there. He didn't know how Sam was going to be, and as much as he wanted to throw himself on the man, he stayed slightly distant swaying in the middle of the room.

Rubbing nervously at his forehead, Sam glanced behind him at the Doctor and smiled weakly. When his gaze moved back to Dean the look on his friend's face was heart-breaking. For the first time since Sam had been aware of Dean he looked so different, tired, scared and worn. "Dean?" Sam's head tilted slightly, brows furrowed as his eyes moved over Dean's face.

It was the first comforting word Dean had heard since he woke in this place the very first time and a surprised sob caught in his throat. He stumbled forward on shaky legs and fell against Sam's body, curling arms tight around him. "Sam. Sam. Sammy," he breathed in a rush, pulling in a quick lungful of his scent to remember. Sam felt so _real_ , unlike how he had before. Solid and firm, different but _amazing_ because he was _here_ , and even if he never saw him again, Dean would feel relieved just to have this one moment.

Breath hitching painfully Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's shaking form. It felt different, Dean felt different - somehow more substantial - his body warmer and his scent different.

Sam's fingers moved automatically to Dean's hair, threading gently through the longer locks, gentle curls pulling through his fingers. Remembering the Doctor’s eyes on them Sam slid his hands forward to grab Dean's shoulders and push him back slightly. "Dean," a smile crept on to Sam's face for a few moments, mingling with the hurt that tugged at his heart. "You left, how did you?" He looked around the nearly empty room, "what are you doing _here_?"

Dean wanted to be _close_ again but he allowed Sam to hold him back, eyes blinking wide up at him. "I... I don't know," Dean looked around as if the room could answer the question before looking back at Sam. "I just, woke up. Here. Before that... it was, the bathroom and you said..." Dean frowned and looked down at the ground before looking back up. "Please Sammy; I'll leave you alone. Or. Or, whatever; But, I can't be here anymore. It's so... cold." Dean reached out for Sam's shirt, stopping when his mind replayed Sam's words from their last night together. His heart clenched in that uncomfortable way and he pressed his lips together.

"Okay, Dean. Listen to me carefully." Sam's voice softened and took on a firmer note. He needed Dean's help and he needed him to focus. "I'm gonna get you out of here but you need to talk to the Doctor and you need to remember what I'm gonna tell you okay?" His fingers squeezed Dean's shoulders briefly. Sam couldn't afford to think about what was happening and for the first time in his life he was thankful for all the hours his father spent training him to be a hunter. Stay disconnected, objective, think.

"Okay," Dean said slowly and nodded, looking up at Sam expectantly.

"You're my brother, Dean Winchester. You were born January 24, 1979." Sam pulled the date out of his head and hoped it was one that Dean could remember. "Say that back to me." His hand slid up to cup Dean's neck as Sam nodded encouragingly.

Pressing into the touch Dean repeated the words in his mind twice before meeting Sam's gaze once more. "I'm your brother, Dean Winchester. I was born January 24, 1979." He said it again in his mind just for good measure and stepped forward. "Can I go now?"

"No, Dean you gotta," _God_ this was breaking Sam into pieces. "You gotta stay here until I can get some proof." He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at the doctor. "I have to make some I.D. for you." Releasing Dean's shoulder Sam moved slowly so as not to attract attention and pulled out his cell phone. Holding it carefully so it was shielded by his body he took a photo of Dean's face and quickly slipped the phone back into his pocket. "I'll get it as fast as I can, okay?"

"Sammy?" Dean breathed quickly before he could turn away, grabbing his hand and waiting until Sam turned to look back at him. "I... I'm really glad you came to get me."

Not trusting his voice for that moment Sam nodded and smiled softly. Squeezing Dean's hand once he let it fall. "Just remember what I told you. Okay? I'll be back as soon as I can."

Stepping back slowly Dean nodded. "I'll remember." He didn't want Sam to go, he wanted to tell him to stay, to not leave him here, but the look on Sam's face told him there were things he had to do before Dean could get out of there. He looked determined, and that reassured Dean, even as the door clicked shut behind him.

"Any idea why he's been so quiet with us?" Dr. Conrad asked Sam curiously, eyes lingering on the doorway before returning to Sam.

"I... we had a rough childhood - I don't know," Sam ran his hand through his hair and glanced back at Dean - still standing in the same spot in the room. "My Dad was a marine, sometimes I think he was too hard on Dean, you know?" Sam blew out a breath and turned his attention back to Dr. Conrad. "What do I have to do to take him home?"

"We'll have to see some ID, proving he's who you say he is, that you two are really family. Physically he's just fine, he's been eating albeit a little... oddly," Dr. Conrad's face scrunched up slightly with an amused smile before she shook her head. "I want to talk to him, at least check some facts, and make sure he's safe to allow you to take him. Now that he's talking," she trailed off slightly as she looked at the folder in her hands. "Three days? Just to be safe. You could come get him on Saturday morning and I'll call you beforehand if there's any issue."

"Okay," Sam nodded. He stepped back to the window on the door for a moment and lifted his hand, pressing it to the glass and waiting until Dean looked up. Smiling Sam nodded and waited for a nod from Dean before turning away. "Take care of him, and thank you for calling me." Sam took the doctor's hand in his and shook it firmly.

"See you Saturday," she smiled and nodded at him before leading the way down the hall to the locked doors.

-=-=-=-

Sam was in a daze as he stumbled out of the hospital room and by the time he made it to the Impala he was struggling to draw breath into his lungs. _Dean_. Real, the doctor could see him, people had found him - somehow - something had changed so completely that Dean was standing there in a room that he couldn't get out of like any other human being on the planet. Time passed and Sam was still sitting in the car when he realized he had a lot of work to do if he was going to get Dean out of the hospital. The low rumble of the car engine soothed Sam's rattled nerves and he headed home, already running over the things he needed to do.

The first thing Sam did was pull out a lot of the supplies he had from hunting with his father from the storage room at his dorm building. The photo he downloaded from his phone needed a little bit of work in Photoshop and then Sam set about the painstaking task of copying his Kansas I.D. He texted back and forth with his Dad a few times; Sam claimed he was helping out a friend and got some information on how best to deal with setting up a fake identity for someone.

Sam picked up some clothes for Dean. It was harder than he thought - all the memories he had of Dean and Sam could really not recall a thing about his friend's clothing. It was Dean's face that kept up a vigil in Sam's mind. Not the face from _before_ \- the one filled with warmth and happiness, no, it was the face of the man he'd left in the hospital room. Frightened and alone, Dean was probably terrified. There would be no sleep for Sam the first night and it was only sheer exhaustion that led to him sleeping the next night.

When Sam was satisfied with the I.D. he started on a birth certificate. Fortunately, it could be almost a complete copy of his own so it went faster that the driver's license. His mind wandered to their final conversation - telling Dean he didn't need him. It was still painful - knowing that Dean was in this place because of him and Sam hadn't been able to ask him a single question. There was no way of knowing what had happened to Dean, why he had ended up in the hospital or if he even had memories of all of their time together. For certain Dean had recognized him and he was hesitant at first, almost afraid. It was enough to make Sam crazy and he continued to mull it over time and time again.

By the time Saturday arrived Nathan was getting tired of Sam's mood. He claimed his roommate was brooding and started to throw pillows and dirty socks at him. Sam only lasted until ten am before he was in the car and headed to the hospital. At the front desk he was led to an office to fill out some paperwork and the clothes he'd brought for Dean were whisked away from him. Almost skittish, Sam jumped every time someone walked past the open door.

-=-=-=-

"Dean Winchester," Dean found himself repeating, for possibly the twentieth time, when Dr. Conrad questioned him. It had been like this for a few days now, a constant prodding as if they were testing him. Dean had a vague feeling that they were. Ever since Sam had showed up they treated him different, like he wasn't so much of an odd mystery and maybe more of a man with obvious issues. "I was born January 24th, 1979." He'd said it enough in his mind recently that it might as well be true.

They asked him about his past, about how he'd ended up here, but Dean kept it as vague as possible. He knew now that this was something important, it was like all those things Sam had been taught from his dad about hunting. Stick as close to the truth as possible, less likely to get confused that way. So he told them how he and Sam traveled around a lot as kids, how their dad was always busy with work. When Dr. Conrad mentioned something about the marines Dean just nodded along, thinking she'd likely gotten that from Sam. He couldn't explain how he'd gotten to the alley they found him in so he simply reasoned that he drank too much, must have hit his head or something.

Whatever lies he managed, it worked because Dr. Conrad informed him after breakfast one morning that his brother would be there to pick him up soon. She gave him a stern lecture about drinking, getting some psychiatric help, taking good care of himself. Dean didn't listen much, too caught up on the idea of seeing Sam once more. He wondered what they would do now, where Dean would go, if they would be okay.

Sometime mid morning the big bulky man - who Dean had never learned the name of - showed up with some clothes and instructed him to get dressed. It was the first time he'd had to put on something outside hospital scrubs since he'd... become human or whatever.

The buttons felt tiny and weird in his fingers and Dean didn't realize he'd missed one until the man came back and eyed him weirdly. Even then he thought it might be because Dean was shifting in the jeans, surprised by how the denim felt rough and itchy almost along his skin.

He followed him down the long hall and out two thick, large doors into a waiting room. Dean's eyes fixed on Sam instantly and he smiled in relief, stepping toward him. "Sam," he said softly and curled his fingers together. "We can go now?"

Nodding, Sam took a step backwards and gestured for Dean to come with him. "Yeah," he smiled, "we can go, gonna take you home." Sam had managed to persuade Nathan to move into Brian's for a few days to give Sam some time to _visit_ with his ex boyfriend who'd arrived from another university. "You got everything?"

Holding up his hands Dean looked down, frowning at the uneven buttons before looking up at Sam. "I don't have anything." He pointed out and scratched roughly at his head with the appearance of a random itch. It was weird to be human, in those little moments, where his body did things without him knowing really why.

Blinking a few times Sam winced, "sorry, okay - let's go." Turning he walked swiftly down the hall to the front door. It would mean walking the long way to the car outside but he just wanted to get outside the hospital, away from the sterile smell and buzz of people. He needed to talk to Dean and find out what happened. Holding the door open for his friend Sam watched his face as he moved out into the fresh air.

The sun was so startlingly bright Dean almost hissed, shielding his eyes with his hand and gasping in soft surprise. A warm and gentle breeze blew along his skin and Dean disregarded the harsh light in favour of dropping his hand and letting the air blow across his fingers. He inhaled thickly and tried to place the scents, catalogue and name them. There was so much happening all at once and his eyes slid in constant movement, noting the call of birds, the hum of engines, and another gust of wind. Sirens started across the parking lot, loud and echoing, and Dean jumped, instinctively stepping into Sam's side and grabbing at his arm. "Loud," he said, voice a tight whisper of surprise.

"It's okay," Sam said and pried Dean's fingers off his arm so he could put his arm around his friend's shoulder. He hadn't thought about Dean being overwhelmed and could kick himself for thinking that a walk outside might be a good idea. "Sorry, I thought," shaking his head Sam tucked Dean in against his side and slid his fingers up through the man's hair. "Your hair grew," he murmured, fingers combing through the soft hair.

"It did?" Dean asked curiously and leaned into the touch, enjoying the comfort from something reassuring. However different Sam seemed, the lines of his face more clear, the color of his hazel eyes brighter, he was still _Sam_ and right now he was the only thing that Dean _knew_. "How long has it been?" He asked quietly, wrapping his arm around Sam's waist and squeezing softly, testing the slight give of his muscles.

Sam pulled Dean toward the front parking lot. "Dean, you've been gone three weeks. I kept calling you." He glanced down, watching as his friend's eyes moved over his own face. Dean's eyes were still the same green; oddly enough they just looked more alive, somehow more vibrant.

"I couldn't hear you," Dean said softly, saddened by the knowledge that Sam had been looking for him and he hadn't been able to come. "I don't know what happened. Not after you said you didn't need me," it hurt to say the words aloud and he drew back slightly, frowning down at the sidewalk. "They must have taken me back, that's the rules. How I ended up... here," Dean gestured to himself and shrugged. "I have no idea."

Stuffing his hand in his pocket, Sam yanked the car keys out. "Are you? What are you?" It felt so strange to even need to ask something like that. He withdrew a little from Dean so he could unlock the car door and pull it open. Leaning against the window for a moment he watched Dean.

Dean didn't just _get_ Sam's feelings anymore. Before, he'd been able to look at Sam and just _know_ what he was feeling. It was disconcerting. "I don't know what I am," he whispered and curled his arms over his chest. "Human I guess. My heart beats, I'm... there's all these _emotions_ and I can't seem to latch on to one. I just wish someone would explain how this happened. Rahmiel, he said he'd try," Dean looked up to the sky but knew there was no point in sending thoughts out there; he wasn't connected on that wave length any longer.

"Okay, well," Sam didn't like the look of confusion on Dean's face. "Nathan's gone to Brian's for a few days. I said I had a... visitor I needed to spend some time with. We've got a few days to work some things out - figure out, well..." Sam's voice trailed off and he shook his head. "Get in," walking around to the other side of the car he unlocked his door and slid in, watching as Dean struggled to pull the door closed.

Door securely closed at his side, Dean leaned against it and sighed shakily, shifting on the cool leather of the seat. He jumped slightly when the car started, louder than he remembered it being. He turned toward Sam an inch or two until he could pull his legs up on the seat, making himself as small as possible. It didn't seem like Sam was all too happy to have him back, maybe he was worried about the nuisance Dean would now be, an almost blank slate with no real knowledge of how to get by in the world. Sure, he had an ID now and a birth certificate but what was he going to do? He didn't know how to read, or write, didn't know how to drive, or cook, or... anything. This was like some type of cruel joke.

They remained silent on the drive and Dean wished he could just flicker out of sight like he once could. Sam had to be frustrated. He finally got his chance of privacy, freedom, the lack of an angel hovering on his shoulder and now he was strapped with an even worse situation. He resolved to come up with a logical solution, somehow, before Sam's roommate returned. Dean followed Sam, a half step behind him, across the campus to his dorm room. He could see the tension in Sam's shoulders, radiating down his spine, and Dean was tempted to reach out and rub soothingly like he once would have but his hand felt heavy.

Having to pay attention to where people were walking was a new thing for Dean. He shoulder checked several students in a row, by accident, and frowned at the words they spat in annoyance at him. Sam's fingers curled over his wrist and guided him slightly behind his body to keep him out of the way; Dean was relieved, even though his fingers itched to lace with Sam's. He remembered once when Sam said he wanted to hold hands in public with him. Dean wondered if that was still true.

They climbed the stairs to Sam's dorm and Dean was surprised to find himself slightly winded. He hadn't _ever_ walked this much and his leg muscles felt sore and loose, enough to make him drop down onto Sam's bed the minute they stepped into the room. His skin felt too warm, overheated from the harsh glare of the sun, his lungs burned from the shaky breaths that stung each time he inhaled through his nose, his shoulder tender and possibly bruised from three hard knocks into random strangers. There was a slight pounding in his skull, the race of his heart, that uncontrollable swell of emotions. It was too much. _Too much_. Dean couldn't take it, couldn't stand how overwhelming it all suddenly felt. He rolled slightly on the bed until he managed to push himself up, sliding off the edge and down onto the floor, bringing his still shaking legs up to his chest in a familiar position. Dean buried his head between his knees and, for the first time in his existence, cried.

Sam had never seen Dean cry, not once in his entire life. It took him longer than it should have but he moved to Dean's side, dropping down hard onto his knees beside his friend. His hand hovered over Dean's back for a few moments, "Dean?" Letting his hand fall to Dean's shoulder Sam rubbed slowly, never more unsure of what to do is his entire life.

Encouraged by the smallest touch Dean's gaze lifted, staring through watery eyes up at Sam. He reached up and touched his own cheek, surprised by the slick moisture. "Everything hurts," he choked on the words and blinked up at Sam. "It's so... so empty and cold here. So quiet and lonely; and I'm going to lose you and have to feel like _this_ always." Dean wasn't sure his words were making sense, they sounded slightly slurred and cut off to him, but he babbled on regardless. "Why does it feel this way Sam? Why is it like this?"

"Hey," Sam's chest felt tight with the emotion that he'd been stuffing down all these weeks. "I... Dean, almost as soon as you were gone I called for you. You didn't come back and," Sam tried to swallow and it hurt, rasping down his throat. "I threw him out," he blurted out, "well, I made him leave. I don't even know what I was thinking. That night; that night I wanted you to say that you wanted me to stay here with you. All those times I asked, you never once asked me to stay."

Sucking in a deep breath Sam blinked, surprised to feel his own eyes prickling with unshed tears. " _Every_ single night I would get into bed and close my eyes and whisper your name, _every_ night you were gone, Dean." He knew he wasn't making sense, that things were coming out in some crazy random order.

"I would have come, if I could have, Sam, I would have been there in a heartbeat." Dean insisted, content to take the focus off himself, wanting to get to the issue of Sam being alright. Even though he was no longer a guardian angel, Sam would always be his Sammy, and he would do whatever possible to make things right for him. "Sammy," he whispered, leaning into him before blinking and looking back up at him. "Sam. I always wanted you to stay, I just... I couldn't really say it." Dean reached up to him, brushing along his cheek slowly. "Hearing you say you didn't need me... even thinking about it now makes me hurt."

"I'm so sorry," Sam murmured even as he leaned in to press his lips to the corner of Dean's mouth. "Please don't hate me, it was cruel the way - I was hurt and selfish." His breath hitched as his lips dragged across Dean's. "You shouldn't have had to say it," he whispered.

Sam's hand slid up through Dean's hair and he squeezed his eyes closed for a few moments against the burn of tears. Shifting closer Sam slid his hand over Dean's shoulders. "I need. _God_ , Dean." A shudder grabbed hold of Sam's body as he pressed up against Dean's thigh. "I need you." Dragging his lips across Dean's Sam moaned softly. "I want you, here, with me."

The touch of lips was different, so very different, and Dean moved curiously up into him, surprised by the way his heart seemed to slam into his chest. "I want you too," he insisted and reached up, latching onto this new swell of emotion, a sudden flare of _want_. "Sam," he gasped and turned, pressing suddenly hard enough into Sam to make them slide back onto the floor, Sam's legs twisting to straighten out beneath him. Dean kissed Sam hard, lips rolling together with enough pressure to make his mouth sting. But it was _so_ good, his hands slid everywhere he could reach, reassuring him that this moment was really happening.

Sam's hands curled over Dean's hip, holding him steady, lips parting without a second thought. Sam's tongue picked up the metallic hint of blood, Dean had never been so forceful, demanding, like he was driven by the need to be touched and reassured. Sam was already panting softly, heat coiling inside him at the weight of Dean. _Dean_. "Hey," he murmured. The word was almost swallowed up by Dean's next kiss, his soft lips moving almost desperately against Sam's.

There had never been pleasure like this, never so intense and consuming, and Dean drank it up eagerly. His hands slid across Sam's sides beneath him, body shifting up enough to push at his shirt until his fingers touched skin that felt almost too hot to be real. This wasn't like before, when his mind had been centered completely on Sam. He _wanted_. His tongue swept around every inch of Sam's mouth, tasted and learned, and he lost himself in sensation and the race of his pulse he could feel coursing through him. Dean laughed, surprised and pleased into the kiss. It was the exact opposite of the way he'd felt before. That overwhelming sadness, emptiness, the fear of being human left him with the _rush_ of what it truly meant to be alive.

Smiling at the sound of Dean's laughter, Sam pulled back a little. Running his hands up Dean's back he curled them over his friend’s shoulders and held him back slightly. "Dean." Tilting his head Sam reached up and pressed a softer kiss to Dean's lips, none of the urgency. He shook his head slightly, "Slow, you've been through a lot." Sam had done a lot of things wrong the last time he'd been with Dean, now, he was going to do thing right.

"Slow?" Dean said curiously and pushed back, smiling softly. "That's what they say in the movies, when one person is a little too... eager." He laughed softly, enjoying the way it sounded but not as much as he enjoyed Sam's laugh that accompanied it. "What does this mean now?" He asked softly, helping Sam sit up and twining their fingers together. When he realized he'd gone quite a bit of time without explaining the question, simply stared down at their joined hands, he looked up at Sam. "I know I can't just stay here with you in the dorms, that um, probably wouldn't go over well with Nathan no matter how cool he is."

"Dean?" Sam raised his eye brows and blinked at the roller coaster of emotions that Dean was riding. His lips quirked into a slight smile, "One step at a time." Pushing up off the floor Sam pulled Dean up with him. "Okay," he slid his arms around Dean's waist and pulled him up close against his body. "How are you feeling?" Sam studied Dean's face, the slight pink flush on his still damp cheeks, the sparkling green eyes.

It took a moment for Dean to really grasp how he was feeling. All the emotions were so new; it took him awhile to figure out which one was the underlying, steady pulsing. "I'm feeling... okay. I think. Everything is very... intense. And I might be a little hungry." Dean smiled softly and looked up at Sam with wide eyes. "I'm happy. That it seems like things might be better with us."

Laughing, Sam tightened his arms. "I think things are gonna be _very_ interesting." Pushing Dean gently Sam made him sit down on the edge of the bed. "Okay, food I can do. Did you eat breakfast this morning?" Taking a few steps back Sam bumped into Nathan's bed, grinned and turned to head over to their small fridge.

"Possibly, if you want to call it that." Dean smiled slightly and shrugged. "All their food was very mushy and wiggly. I didn't like the wiggly thing. I had chicken!" He said excitedly, remembering how he thought of Sam as a young boy enjoying the food. "None of that sauce stuff but it was good. And, I think I had what they called pizza but it was mostly just bread and sauce. And some other stuff. You wouldn't have liked it. They're not very nice there you know, someone should talk to them about that." Dean blinked up at Sam and blushed as he realized he'd babbled a bit.

Sam laughed louder, throwing his head back and digging into the fridge. "Hospitals have kinda shitty food usually." He pondered what the wiggly stuff was. "Was the wiggly stuff green or red?" Banging around in the fridge Sam came back to the bed with a few things in his hands and put them on the mattress between them as he sat down.

"Red. Though I didn't like the green mushy stuff much," Dean informed and stared down at the packages. They all registered vaguely, but over the years he'd tuned out when Sam followed his dad shopping or went himself. It was easier not to think about it then when it only inspired longing to be human in him. Looking back up at Sam he smiled brighter. "What's best?"

"Here," Sam picked up and apple and shined it on his t-shirt. "Take a bite." He held out the apple for Dean and couldn't help smiling at the look of absolute pleasure on Dean's face.

It was fruit, Dean knew that much, but the taste on his tongue at the first crisp bite had his eyes widening in pleased surprise. He bit off three more large chunks in quick succession until his mouth was full and chewed, swallowing thickly. "That's very good. Much better than mushy or wiggly stuff." Dean grinned before settling in to take a few more large bites.

"Careful," Sam chuckled quietly, "don't choke." He picked up a small packet of cheese and tore the plastic open on one end and took a bite himself before offering it to Dean. "My favourite, cheese."

Flashing a crooked grin at Dean Sam finally started to relax a little. Focusing on the small things took the edge off how monumental the situation was. There were a lot of things that they needed to talk about, decisions to make. Sam felt his smile weaken a little.

Dean discovered the cheese didn't taste so good with the fruit so he set the apple down and settled on the salty cheese instead. Once it was gone he looked back up at Sam and tilted his head to the side, "what are you thinking about?"

Shrugging a shoulder Sam picked up a chocolate bar. "You." He picked at the edge of the wrapper and opened it then set it down on the bed. "Can I have the apple?" Smiling at Dean he stretched his leg out and hooked his ankle round his friend's.

Offering the apple Dean stared almost longing at the chocolate. "What about me?" He mumbled quietly and pulled his gaze up from the sugary substance.

Taking a bite of apple Sam crunched quietly for a few moments. Sam swallowed and wiped some of the fruit's juice off his bottom lip. "Got a lot to figure out," he couldn't help the way his eyes widened a little. "But - I'll figure it out." Looking down at the chocolate Sam nudged it toward Dean with his free hand.

"I can help, it's... I should. If I'm going to be human, I have to learn how to do it. So, you know, maybe I'll get a job, or uh... well. I don't really know how to read or write, but I'm sure I can learn fast," Dean shrugged and finally reached out for the chocolate, breaking a piece off and laying it on his tongue. It was warm and pleasant, not the type of warm he was used to but it sparked a sensation through him he basked in for a moment. "Wow. Now I see why you like that so much. The chocolate."

"It's good." Sam threw the apple core in the garbage can and wiped his hand on his jeans. "You can stay with me as long as you need to and we'll get you organized. I'm sure there will be things that you'll want to do, and," Sam looked down at his hands where they gripped his thighs tightly. "You never know - you might meet someone else at some point, I mean not now maybe, but I'm the only person you've ever talked to and now people are gonna want to know you." _And you might leave me again._

The thought hadn't even occurred to Dean and he shook his head roughly, sliding closer to Sam. "Are you crazy? Why in the world would I want anyone besides you?" He smiled slightly and reached out to grab Sam's hand. "You're... you're my everything. My best friend, the one person I can trust, you already _know_ me. I wouldn't... I wouldn't even want to be alive if I didn't get to be with you. When I was there, in the hospital, you were all I thought about. I love you," Dean continued to scoot closer, scrunching the remaining food between them.

Sam pressed his lips together for a few moments and then looked up into Dean's fierce gaze. "Okay, but if you ever change your mind. I will understand I mean - it'll hurt - but you gotta be happy. That's gotta be our deal. Promise you'll tell me if you ever want to leave?" Sam could feel tears start to slip down his cheeks for the first time since he'd realized Dean was back. "I... I'll let you go. I promise."

Falling forward against Dean's body Sam clung to him. The hurt of the last few weeks shot through him as the walls finally came down. "But," he whispered, "I don't w..want you to go."

Pulling Sam up into his lap, holding him like he had so many times over the year, Dean shook his head slightly and pressed his lips to Sam's hair. "I promise to tell you, but it's not going to happen. The same goes for you of course, if you find someone. I just... I was thinking. Me being here, it can't just be by chance. I'm meant to be here right? Meant to be with you." Dean squeezed Sam roughly and inhaled Sam's scent, held it in and remembered.

"I guess so," Sam tried to get himself under control. Exhaustion and relief were starting to drain him. "You found me then I found you right back." Laughing through his tears Sam shifted and pulled the chocolate out from under his leg, "melting," he murmured. Pulling off a small soft piece Sam held it up to Dean's lips.

A smile played across Dean's lips for a moment before he parted them and sucked the chocolate forward, licking the remaining sweetness from Sam's fingers. He sucked hard on the rich taste, nose nudging at Sam's head until he looked up at him. "We're gonna be okay," he reassured softly and dipped down, slanting his lips over Sam's and kissing slowly, savouring the feel of his mouth on his.

Sam smiled at the sweet taste of chocolate on Dean's lips. Sliding his arms over Dean's shoulders Sam pressed their bodies closer together. Kissing Dean was familiar and different, like a memory that was so long ago it was distorted. But, Sam liked this new Dean - the one not afraid to want, the one was now his by choice. Smiling he pulled back from the kiss. "One step at a time," whispered and leaned his forehead against Dean's.


	6. Chapter 6

"Sam!" Dean called excitedly as he pushed the apartment door open, juggling the bag of groceries in his hand, fingers curled around papers and keys. The last three weeks had been a constant clash of busy, often ending with both men collapsing into bed, utterly exhausted.

Sam was still juggling classes in between trying to find a place for Dean to live, filling out applications at places that wouldn't require Dean to do much reading or writing. Dean was trying to help as much as he could, offering opinions and thoughts and suggestions whenever he could.

It took a couple of weeks but they managed to find a place for Dean to stay and Sam by default. He couldn't technically move out of the dorm's but most of his stuff had already drifted into the apartment anyway. Sam had been saving the money he received back from his financial aid, planning on using it for a nice place the following year, but he was more then willing to spend it now to get them situated. Dean made a mental promise to pay his fair share, determined to land one of the jobs he was basically unqualified for. They didn't have much money to spare but a few trips around to thrift stores and the goodwill managed to provide them with random, mismatched furniture.

Dean walked through the apartment, looking for Sam and smiling softly. The couch had been a little too grimy for his tastes but the problem was easily solved when Sam found a large sheet to tuck over it. Now it was a light green and fit in weird but right with the dark blue, large rug that covered most of the floor. The coffee table was dark brown, scuffed and well worn, but Dean liked it. They didn't have a TV yet but Dean really didn't mind, he would rather spend as much time outdoors as possible, not eager to lounge around and do nothing unless Sam was with him.

The bag in his arm thudded loudly on the light wooden kitchen table and Dean moved the two chairs - that didn't match in color or design - out of the way to unload the items. The apartment was small, a large open living room, a connecting kitchen, a short hallway to the bedroom and bathroom.

Dean _loved_ it. They didn't need much room, and the past week they'd spent settling in, collecting random things - like the small house plant in the living room or the stained black bookshelf to the side of the couch - had been the best week of Dean's short life. It was nice not to be in the dorm any longer, especially since Nathan kept giving him weird looks. Not impolite but obviously a little curious as to why Dean suddenly seemed to be a permanent fixture in Sam's life. Dean didn't tell Sam but he took great amusement in creeping the boy out by stating facts he'd learned about him over the few months before he became alive.

Another plus of having their own place was the level of privacy. Outside extended kisses and one fumbling session in which Dean had to bury his head in a pillow to keep quiet while Sam's hand worked under his boxers in the dark of the dorm room, they hadn't been able to do much of anything. They were still taking things slow, which to Dean basically meant letting Sam set the pace. Not that they had much time for things anyway. It was getting closer to the end of the semester and Sam was buried deep in homework and studying, Dean was doing what Sam called, _pounding the pavement_ , to find some form of employment.

Which brought him here, pulling out a bag of frozen ravioli and a jar of sauce. Tonight was a night to celebrate and Dean had _plans_. There was still the faintest tension between them but Dean had a feeling it was tension of a different sort. Sure, there was still the lingering confusion as to how he'd turned up human, but it had been over a month total now and Dean couldn't imagine getting a real answer any time in the foreseeable future.

He dug through their random collection of pots and pans before finding one big enough and filling it with water. Dean liked this, the idea of taking care of Sam in a different way, and Sam taking care of him in turn. It felt more even, a thousand times more real, and he found himself spending less and less time marveling at the sensations of being real and simply falling into step with this new life.

By the time he heard keys in the door the table was set with two plates and a candle - that Dean had been a little more than excited to buy since Sam had seemed to amused by his desire to purchase a pair of candle holders from a garage sale the weekend before - two different styles of glasses and a bottle of wine that had been inexpensive but the shop guy promised was good.

Dean hadn't tried more than a few sips of beer a couple weekends ago, wine seemed much more elegant. He was just turning to set the bowl of sauce covered ravioli on the table between the bread and salad when the door swung open and he grinned brightly in anticipation, sliding around to slightly cover the table and help Sam with the stack of books he was carrying. "Hey there," he beamed, free hand grazing Sam's arm.

"Hi," Sam's eyes widened and he flashed Dean a crooked grin. "We celebrating somethin'?" Letting Dean take the books Sam tried to peer around his friend to see. Shrugging off his back pack then his jacket Sam stretched his arms up high above his head. " _God_ , that was a long day."

"I'm glad you're back," Dean informed and stepped in slightly, wrapping his free arm around Sam's waist and leaning into him softly. He pulled away before it could seem to sentimental on his part and carried the books into the living room, dropping them down on the coffee table. "I got the job at the animal shelter," he said in a rush, unable to hide his excitement any longer, turning back to Sam and grinning brightly.

"Holy shit, Dean. That's awesome!" Sam stumbled forward as he tried to kick his way out of his shoes and snatch Dean into a ridiculously tight hug all at the same time.

Laughing in amusement Dean wrapped his arms tight around Sam and buried his nose into Sam's neck. His lips pressed into the skin for a moment before he pulled back a little, grinning up at him. "I get to play with puppies and kitties all day, so basically, awesome." He laughed and pressed his lips hard into Sam's, fingers sliding up into his hair to hold him close and deepen the kiss for a long moment. When he released his hold, he smiled; slightly shy around the edges, cheeks coloring. "I missed you today. You left before I woke up this morning."

 _God_ the way Dean kissed now, each time Sam felt like he would just melt right there in the man's arms. There was something subtly different about it now - like Dean felt better about taking what he wanted. Eyes fluttering open Sam swayed forward into Dean's body. "You did?" Sam shook his head and grinned dopilly, "I mean I did. You were sleeping so peacefully - I didn't want to wake you." Tugging on Dean's belt loops, Sam rocked him back and forth a little. "You can't kiss me like that then expect me to answer questions."

"Mm," Dean hummed softly and leaned into Sam's hips, lips meeting again in another lingering pass. "I made dinner. Straight from a bag and a jar," he grinned as he pulled back enough to take Sam's wrist and pull him toward the kitchen. "I hope you're hungry, I slaved for _hours_." Dean liked teasing Sam, liked the smile that crossed the man's face, it made his heart flutter pleasant in his chest.

Laughing softly, Sam snarled playfully and leaned down to nibble on Dean's neck. "Starving," he mumbled. Sam had been so happy since things had started to settle back to normal between them. There were still some lines Sam wasn't going to cross, in particular, the sexual ones because he just didn't want to ruin things for Dean, push him and have him do anything he wasn't ready for.

"Good, then this can be our first official date," Dean informed and dragged the chair back for Sam, grinning as he crossed to his chair and pulled at the bottle of wine. "The guy said this was good." He peeled the wrapper at the top and frowned slightly, shrugging before handing it to Sam in defeat. "Tell me about your day."

Sam leaned back on his chair and pulled out a drawer so he could grab the corkscrew. Holding the bottle between his legs Sam worked the cork out and smiled. "So, you got wine, you cooked dinner. This is awesome." Sam laughed, "you even got candles for your silly, uh, lovely candle holders." Sam winked, teasing was still a bit new to Dean and sometimes he took it the wrong way. Usually, a simple grin from Sam was enough though. _God_ ; Dean was amazing. The thought came randomly to Sam these day. Dean was amazing.

A small chuckle left his lips as he scooped salad from the bowl and arranged it on Sam's plate before placing some on his own. "So yeah, that's the last ten minutes. What else did you do with your day? Didn't you have that test in your medicine class or whatever?" Dean knew all of Sam's classes and he knew that Sam knew that, it was just a _thing_ he supposed. There were things about human phrases he was still learning.

"I did, it was okay, I probably should have studied more but I'd rather study you." Sam grinned and picked up Dean's wine glass to pour him some wine. Sniffing the bottle Sam gave a pleased nod and poured a glass for himself. "And, I managed to finish my psych paper so I'm free this weekend to have some fun. Hey, I didn't ask, what hours will you have at the shelter?"

"I start next Monday for training. I uh, told them I needed evenings off. They close at five anyway. So I should be okay." Dean smiled and picked his glass up, swirling it like he saw them do on the TV before before sniffing. It was slightly bitter but not unpleasant and Dean sipped curiously. The taste was oddly dry on his tongue and Dean frowned before nodding, deciding he liked it better then the cheap beer Nathan had. "They open at eight," he continued as if he hadn't stopped. "But for the training I don't have to go until ten." He smiled when he looked back up, grasping at a bottle of salad dressing.

"That's really great. I'm so proud of you. We'll work more on reading this weekend, I got a naughty magazine for us to work with." Sam grinned and tucked his hair behind his ear. The wine was good, a nice woody flavour and it heated up his chest a little as it went straight to his head because he hadn't eaten since mid-morning. "Did you get to see any critters today?"

Nodding around a mouthful of salad Dean waited until he swallowed before adding, "we walked through the dog section. They have so many, it's crazy. I guess I'm going to be cleaning cages, helping with baths, taking them for walks and stuff. It's probably going to be hard work but it'll be good for me, build up my strength." Dean wasn't comfortable with how weak he felt sometimes, and he was looking forward to the idea of taking some of that fear away, lingering thoughts about Sam's safety always there in his mind. "Maybe we can adopt one some day. One of the dogs." He suggested and shrugged, tucking in to more of the food. Dean was quite fond of the eating thing.

Digging in to his salad Sam munched quietly for a while then swallowed. "You know, I knew that was gonna happen." He grinned. "I don't think we can have a dog here but once we're both working we could get a house and get a dog." Secretly, Sam had wanted a dog most of his life but there just never seemed to be a right time for it.

"Alright, sounds fair. Wouldn't be right to leave him here anyway, all day alone," Dean nodded in agreement, ready to go along with anything Sam suggested, especially when it contained mention of the future.

They settled into their dinner, talking occasionally but mostly enjoying the food. Dean thought it was more than decent, considering it came from a frozen bag. It was definitely better than the hospital food, Dean could go the rest of his life without eating that stuff again. He drank only one glass of wine but it settled along his system, not debilitating, just enough to give him a little boost to work through the rest of the plans he had for their night of celebrating.

Sam insisted on doing the dishes but Dean helped anyway, scooping the leftovers into containers to store in the fridge. He liked these simple little moments, it made him feel comfortable, like this was more than the right place to be. It inspired him to feel right about the way he was feeling, the potential hope of a more than future.

Once they'd finished cleaning up they headed for the living room to relax on the couch. Sam had homework to do but he could get to that later. For now Dean curled against his side, wrapping an arm around his waist and sighing softly, content. "Sam?" He murmured after awhile of peaceful silence, head pillowed on Sam's shoulder. "I know we're - we're best friends. And well, I don't know. More than that. But I wanted. I wondered... maybe if you wanted to be my boyfriend?" Dean said the last few words in a quiet whisper, eyes fixed down on Sam's thighs.

Blinking and then dropping his gaze, Sam smiled shyly and slid his arm over Dean's shoulder. "Really?" They'd always been more than friends and yet, always less than lovers. "I would, yeah, I'd like to call you my boyfriend." Sam's lips twitched into a brighter smile and his pressed his lips to Dean's hair and breathed in deeply. "I'd like that a lot."

Dean exhaled in relief and tilted up to catch Sam's lips in a slow kiss. He'd stopped counting all the things he'd never done awhile ago but this was one that was worth making note of. Sam as _his_ boyfriend meant there wouldn't be any others, he would be the person Sam came home too, took out to meet friends, all those special little things Dean didn't fully understand yet. "Good," he murmured when the kiss broke, hand sliding lower on Sam's chest until it settled over his lap. "I... I know you have homework and stuff. But after... later tonight; I thought maybe we could um... do... _more_." Dean's arm pressed a little firmer into Sam's lap. "Unless you still wanted to go slow for awhile?"

Something that felt an awful lot like fire shot through Sam's body as the words left Dean's lips. "More?" Sam swallowed as his fingers tightened on Dean's arm. They hadn't even talked about it before now, just a subtle sort of understanding that things were what they were.

"Yeah, more," Dean nodded and picked at the edge of Sam's shirt. "I want. Well... I've been thinking about it. You. A lot. And I just want to feel you, you know?" Dean glanced up at him, eyes trailing along the faint color in his cheeks. "I like the way your skin feels. And how you can make my heart race. I was thinking it wouldn't really be rushing things much because we already know each other more than most people do in one life time. I want to..." Dean dropped his gaze back to his fingers on Sam's shirt and blushed brighter. "To... have sex with you."

"I, yeah, uh," Sam shifted because _God_ he was getting turned on just talking about it. "You, we don't." Sighing Sam started over again. "We, _Jesus_. Okay," laughing softly Sam pressed his lips to Dean's hair again. "Obviously, I wasn't prepared for that. You're crazy in an amazingly good way you know that?"

"Um... thank you?" Dean glanced back up and smiled slightly, pulling back a little and patting Sam's stomach. "We can talk after you do your homework, don't want to screw you up tomorrow for classes." Dean figured Sam might need a little time to think about it anyways, and if he said no, still insisted on taking things slow, that was alright. They'd get there, Dean trusted that. "Maybe I'll work on some writing," Dean suggested, climbing off the couch to retrieve the writing book Sam had purchased, even if it made him feel foolish since it was a little kids book.

"Waaait a minute." Sam dived forward and grabbed Dean's hand and tugged him back toward the couch until he was standing between Sam's legs. "I don't think we were done with that conversation." His hands settled on Dean's back pockets on his jeans, squeezing gently then slid up over the waist band to tuck under the bottom of his t-shirt. "You're my _boyfriend_."

Sam grinned up a Dean for a few moments then leaned his chin on Dean's belly. "Boyfriends talk about these things, and they don't," he shrugged, "they don't say things like _sex_ and get their boyfriend all turned on and then say they're gonna write. Not that you're not incredibly sexy when you write." Sam could feel a flush creeping onto his cheeks. "When you concentrate you do this thing with your tongue - that, just makes me-" he blew out a breath and raised his eyebrows.

Sometimes Sam spoke to him like this, voice deeper and richer than normal and Dean always underestimated how his body would respond. He swayed forward as much as possible, hands tangling up in Sam's hair and curling into the silky locks. "That turned you on? Me talking about having sex with you?" He smiled shyly and stared down at Sam through his eyelashes. "This is a very provocative pose," Dean pointed out and moved his hips forward slightly to prove the fact. "It... kind of does things to me," he admitted with a soft whisper, feeling the blood race along his veins to much lower on his body.

Dropping his head slowly Sam mouthed his way along the scrunched up material of Dean's shirt, his fingers digging into the smooth skin of Dean's back. "Does things to me too," he murmured against Dean's stomach. " _You_ do things to me.” Letting his hand smooth down over Dean's ass Sam tugged him closer, mouth still working it's way down; his lips slid over the denim waist band, teeth scraping over the button and he pressed his mouth hard against the line of arousal under the denim. "God," he murmured.

The air felt as if it had been sucked from his lungs and Dean's head tipped back to gasp, eyes fluttering with the sudden burst of sensation flaring through him. His fingers in Sam's hair tightened and his knees dipped for a moment. "S-Sam..." he moaned softly and rolled his hips into the pleasure, teeth scraping along his lips slowly. "We... are we supposed to uh, be having a conversation?" Dean could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks and he let his head drop forward to peer down at his _boyfriend_.

Groaning softly Sam pulled back long enough to glance up at Dean before pulling him down onto his lap. Falling back against the couch he tugged on Dean's hips until his boyfriend was straddling his lap. Rolling his hips up once he closed his eyes and let out a long slow breath. "Okay," he whispered, gazing up at Dean, "let's talk." Running a hand up Dean's side Sam's eyes followed the path of his fingers. Palm pressing across Dean's chest, t-shirt rumpling under his hand. "What are we talking about? Sex?" His voice was gravelly and thick, chest rising and falling quickly.

"I uh..." Dean could hardly restrain his body from moving against Sam's, sharp jolts of thrill tingling along his skin in a constant wave. "Yeah I think that... sex. Something about me wanting us to have sex," he half shrugged and let himself sink against Sam's chest, lips colliding with his neck and instantly parting to feel the slide of skin. He sucked softly over the pulse point, moved up to catch every inch possible with slow, steady sweeps of his tongue and lips.

Sam's head fell back against the sofa and he moaned softly. "So," he gasped as Dean's teeth scraped against the flesh of his neck. "You want," Sam's eyes slammed closed as he tried to focus on the words he was trying to get out. "You want sex, what, how?" _God_ , the weight of Dean's body against his was the most distracting thing in the universe. _How?_. If Sam could think about anything other than the blood that was running straight to his cock he might find that amusing.

Murmuring against Sam's neck, Dean didn't bother trying to answer for awhile. It was too good to feel Sam moving beneath him, hear the gentle gasps that left his lips when he hit a certain spot. Dropping his fingers low on Sam's body, Dean pushed along the bottom of his shirt, slipping his fingers over his chest slowly. "Sex," he finally whispered, catching the bottom of Sam's ear between his teeth like the man had done to him once, dragging it out slowly. "There are lots of different types, yeah? I want - want to feel you... feel _everything_. Do you? You want..." he didn't know how to ask for what he wanted, wasn't even sure he knew exactly what it was. He just _wanted_.

Sam's hips wouldn't stop moving His body rolled up under Dean's seeking out more pressure, the rub of his crotch against Dean's ass. His hand slid up over Dean's neck to grasp his hair and pull his head up so he could press their lips together. "I think," he whispered against Dean's lips, "I should fuck you." Letting out a frustrated moan Sam rolled his hips up once more and dropped his head back slightly to look up at Dean's eyes. His boyfriend's cheeks were flushed, his eyes almost so dark he could hardly see the sparkling green anymore.

The words seemed to slam into his brain and repeat, pulling a loud moan from his lips. "God, Sam," he rocked down into his boyfriend's body, hands shoving up at Sam's shirt rougher now. "Yeah. I. Yeah, I want that." Dean nodded swiftly and crushed his lips against Sam's once more, pulling back just enough to tug Sam's shirt completely off his body before reclaiming his mouth once more.

Cinching his arms tight around Dean's trembling body Sam slid his tongue forward - tracing the curves of his boyfriend’s lips then thrusting deeper. Dean was on fire, moving constantly and the way his hands moved over Sam's body was so sensual, fluid, he never stopped and Sam's heart was pounding so hard he was almost dizzy. Sam's hands clawed at the back of Dean's t-shirt, yanking and pulling at the material until he finally had to tear his lips away from Dean's to pull it off over his boyfriends head. "Need to touch more of you," he murmured before chasing Dean's lips again. Nipping at his boyfriends bottom lip Sam let his fingernails scratch up Dean's back. He gasped as Dean's body bowed forward and dipped his head down quickly to suck and lick his way across Dean's chest.

The way Sam's lips burned against his skin was enough to make Dean nearly whimper, fingers cupping along his boyfriend's neck and holding slightly. "This feels so good," he moaned softly and pressed his hips down into Sam's, almost curious to see how it would send sparks up through him. Dean had never wanted anything like this before, he wanted Sam to show him, teach him, _take him_. "Sam," he murmured, hands sliding down to his shoulders and trailing over his skin across his shoulders. He could feel Sam's tongue against his chest, over his nipple, and Dean bent his back in a curve, pressing up into the heat.

Biting hard on Dean's nipple, Sam felt the small nub of flesh pebble instantly against his lips. Moaning he let Dean's spine arch back over his arm and slid his free hand up the smooth skin of Dean's body. "You're gorgeous," he whispered, lips ghosting over the dusty brown nipple again before he settled against it once more, sucking hard and rocking his hips up into his boyfriend's body. Groaning, he mouthed his way across to the center of Dean's chest almost convinced he could feel the race of Dean's heart under his lips. "We need to move," he muttered, sliding his hands down to Dean's hips and gripping tightly. "Bedroom," he ordered.

Dean allowed Sam to push him up to his feet, nearly stumbling back over the coffee table as blood rushed through him. "Whoa," he pressed fingers into his temple and chuckled roughly. "Head rush." Dean leaned into Sam's body, pressing forward to bring their lips together for another deep, lingering kiss. "We. You're going to fuck me tonight right?" Dean asked against Sam's lips, fingers barely glancing across the small of Sam's back.

Panting softly, Sam licked his lips after the kiss to draw in the taste of his lover. "Is that okay?" He closed his eyes again and ghosted his lips across Dean's forehead, "'cause that's what I want." His voice was thick with the emotion and lust spiraling out of control in him.

Nodding slowly, Dean reached up to tuck Sam's hair behind his ear. "Yeah. Yeah that's really okay. I want-" he inhaled shakily and rolled his hips forward against Sam's. "I want that. To feel you in me." Dean could hardly fathom what that connection was going to be like and his heart jolted in excitement.

Blowing out a breath, Sam tried to steady himself a little. He let his arms fall to his side for a few moments, "you're gonna be the death of me." Laughing softly he dragged his hand down his face then reached down and whacked Dean hard on the ass - a playful glint in his eye. "Bedroom." Raising an eyebrow he waited for Dean to move and hoped that the smile on his face partly camouflaged the fact that inside - he was a wreck of _want_ and _Jesus_ he was so hard his body was aching.

Dean rubbed absently along his backside as he headed down the hall to the bedroom, stumbling against the door frame for a moment and laughing. "Can I be drunk off you? Is that possible?" He glanced over his shoulder at Sam and grinned, crossing the room to the bed and trailing his fingers along the blankets, running across them slowly.

Sam laughed as he stepped forward too fast and collided with Dean, hands quickly sliding down over his lover's ass. "Yeah," he lapped his way across Dean's bottom lip, "I'm like that." And _fuck_ , Dean certainly was.

Sam had spent his entire life being addicted to the way Dean touched him, the way his lips moved on Sam's flesh, that burst of warm air the skittered across Sam's cheek when Dean moaned. His smile faltered and he gripped Dean's ass hard almost pulling him up off the floor. "I want you," he murmured against his boyfriend's mouth. "So glad you came back to me."

Before Dean had a chance to answer Sam crushed his boyfriend's mouth under his, slick and hot, mouth opening and closing almost frantically as he claimed Dean's mouth. _Mine_ \- the word ricocheted through Sam's mind and he growled softly.

There was no choice really but to melt against Sam's body and Dean did so, curving into him and wrapping arms firmly across his shoulders. Sam's lips were making his mind spin, the way he so roughly devoured him like Dean was all he wanted. It made his heart pick up a speed Dean didn't even think possible, flaring into overdrive and weakening his knees. He sank back down onto the bed and Sam went smoothly with him, sliding them back along the mattress and pressing down into his body. Dean moaned against Sam's lips and parted his mouth open wider, granting him more room to explore. His chest arched up to rub firmly against Sam's, enjoying the solid pressure and constant heat.

Sam's tongue slid forward, mapping out every inch of Dean's mouth. There was a fire burning inside him, a need to claim every part of Dean. He'd been holding back so long, trying to give Dean the time he needed to settle into his new body, new role, new way of living. And here he was spread out underneath Sam - open and _finally_ letting Sam know how much he wanted him. And, _God_ Sam was going to give in. His hands slid up Dean's sides as his body settled firmly on his lover's, pressing him down against the mattress and grinding his hips down. Withdrawing just enough to speak Sam moaned. "You make me so... crazy."

"Good crazy?" Dean whispered, voice breathless and tight with his arousal. His body moved restless up into Sam's as much as he could, hands curving into his side and holding tight. Dean still hadn't quite adjusted to the need to catch his breath and, especially when he and Sam got lost in each other, it was easy for him to forget about the need. Now he sucked in quick breaths in between lifting his head to crush his lips against Sam's. "You. God Sam... it feels so good." His hips shifted restlessly, eagerly.

Pushing himself up off Dean's body, Sam crawled backwards then shifted so he was kneeling over Dean's thighs. Staring down at his lover's face Sam trailed his fingers along the waist band of the man's jeans - back and forth a few times before stopping to push the button free and drag the zipper down slowly. He could feel the sweat beading on his forehead and there was a tremor in his hands that gave away how affected he was by Dean's body, by his touch, his lips. "How long have you been thinking about this? Sex," he dragged his finger down the hard line under the thin material of Dean's boxers.

Swallowing thickly, Dean's hips moved up once more, eyes fluttering at the teasing feel. "I uh," he swallowed thickly and forced his eyes open to stare up at his boyfriend. "I... couple days after the dorms. You were in class and um..." Dean blew out a shaky breath and blushed brightly. "I found... a magazine." He half shrugged and dropped his gaze down Sam's chest.

"What did you see?" Sam shifted slowly, fingers hooking over the denim waistband and pulling it down gently, slowly - one teasing inch at a time. Pausing, he ran the pads of his fingers up Dean's rigid shaft where it tented his boxers.

A sharp gasp left Dean's lips and his body jerked up into the touch. "I. I saw-" he moaned deeply and curled his fingers over Sam's shoulders. "Fucking. Men fucking each other. And... I thought about you doing that to me, what it would feel like," Dean said in a quick rush, tongue running swiftly over his lips. "It really. Affected me. Made me want you." Dean panted slightly, eager to feel more of the touch.

The words still sent a little thrill up and down Sam's spine whenever Dean said them, maybe always would. Curling his fingers into fists for a moment Sam steadied himself. He sucked in a sharp breath, "And, you feel more now. Differently."

Blinking slowly Sam reached out and hooked a finger over the waistband of Dean's boxers, lifting it and pulling it forward to slide it down over Dean's hard-on. Licking his lips he let his fingers hover over the twitching shaft, feeling his own cock swelling as need coursed through him.

"I feel, you," Dean murmured and trembled slightly. He could almost feel the heat of Sam's hand, so close to touching him but just out of reach. "I want - I don't even know how to explain it. It's... like every _part_ of me _needs_ you," Dean couldn't resist pushing up on his elbows so their lips could slide together, arching up into Sam to allow the kiss to linger.

Sam's lashes fluttered closed for a few moments then he launched into action; he dragged the jeans and boxers down and threw them on the floor. Lying down once more, pressed up against Dean's naked body Sam let his hands wander. "Every part of me," he whispered - hand sliding down over Dean's hip. Dean's lashes fell to his freckled cheeks and Sam couldn't help but smile. "Every part of me needs you." His fingers slipped down to stroke up Dean's firm cock once, then slide away quickly.

The sparks of pleasure that continued to flare up through Dean were making it hard to breathe, hard to even see straight. He moaned out of over stimulation and because of Sam's words, writhing along the mattress. "Is this... foreplay?" He asked, voice deep and rich, hands reaching out once more to try and capture brief touches along Sam's skin.

Laughing softly Sam shifted back until he could stand. "No, this is me making myself so hard I can barely breathe." Swaying slightly Sam fumbled with his own button and zipper and quickly kicked his way out of his jeans. His cock was aching, hard and full, heavy.

Falling back down onto the bed he crawled back up Dean's body slowly, mouthing his way along muscular thighs, tender flesh. His teeth grazed along Dean's hip bone, his lips soaked up the subtlety of each curve and line. Moaning softly Sam slid his body further up until he could settle against Dean's side; he rolled his hips forward seeking out some pressure, _relief_.

Dean turned into Sam's body and wrapped an arm around him, sliding down until he grazed just the top of his ass. "So, what are you waiting for then?" He asked, mostly curiously but more than a little eager to feel _everything_. His heart seemed to skip a beat, though Dean didn't logically think that was possible, and he pressed forward to seal his lips over Sam's in a heated kiss. Breaking back after a moment he smiled, slightly shy. "I. When I was at the store, I bought the um... the lubrication stuff," Dean fumbled and his cheeks flamed.

"Where is it?" Sam rocked his hips forward so their cocks slid together, hard warmth against hard warmth. He moaned and buried his face in Dean's neck.

Struggling to shift across the bed Dean fumbled out and tugged at the nightstand drawer. It took him three tries to finally grasp the bottle and he rolled back toward Sam with a wide grin. "I didn't buy condoms cause I didn't know which ones... but that's okay right?" He pushed at the lid of the bottle and offered it to Sam.

Taking the bottle Sam leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his boyfriend's lips. "You know I've never been with anyone else, right?" He could feel his cheeks coloring. "Never. I think I always knew," he huffed feeling silly.

"Good," Dean nodded swiftly and leaned in for another deep kiss. "I... I always hoped. That it would be me." He smiled against Sam's mouth before dropping back onto the mattress and spreading his legs slightly. "Will it hurt at all?" He asked softly, not really because he cared, more just curious.

"I'll make it good, but it might hurt a little," Sam tilted his head and walked his fingers over Dean's hip. "We can stop." He'd do anything Dean asked, anything he wanted. The now familiar emotion welled up in him again as he stared at his boyfriend's face.

"No," Dean shook his head quickly. "I don't want to stop." There was such a wave of thrill and excitement coursing through him Dean couldn't imagine not experiencing this now. "I trust you," he added and smiled up at Sam even as his body moved into the touch.

"Enough talking." Sam grinned and scooted closer as his hand whipped out to grasp Dean's cock. His fingers curled tightly round the base, squeezing. His tongue snaked out and skirted along the smooth flesh of Dean's ear; the tip darted inside and then he drew back sending a warm breath across Dean's neck. "I'm so in love with you it hurts," Sam whispered. He trembled slightly and began a slow stroke up and then back down Dean's cock. The way Dean moved, subtle and slow, liquid and uneven was killing Sam slowly.

Jerking up into the touch, Dean's lips parted and then closed several times. Sam's words sank through him, sped the quick beat of his heart and made blood rush through him. "I. Yes, God I'm in love with you," he insisted, breathless and shuddering slightly. Sam's hand felt like fire on him, too much to take, and Dean worried he'd hit his release before they even began. "Sam. Please, I might... I feel like I'm going to come before-" he shivered slightly and wet his lips.

" _Fuck_ ," Sam could feel his eyes widen as he watched Dean's body start to writhe. Leaning back he squirted some lube on his fingers then grasped Dean's shoulder and pulled him closer, hiking the man's leg up over his waist and sliding his arm forward over Dean's ass. His lips claimed Dean's giving him no chance to pull away before he was sliding a slick finger along the sensitive, puckered flesh. Sucking hard on Dean's tongue he bit gently, free hand snaking down between their bodies so he could rub the back of his hand hard against Dean's cock.

The sensation was so new, so different, but just as appealing and Dean rocked slightly down into Sam's finger, curious to see what the _more_ would feel like. He pressed up into Sam's lips, opening his mouth wide and moaning as teeth gently slid across his tongue. It was a sharp thrill to know he was affecting Sam too, know that the man wanted him just as much as Dean wanted him. His fingers slid up to silky hair and tangled slowly.

Sliding his finger past Dean's tight ring of muscle was easy; Dean's body jolted slightly. "Okay?" Sam's voice was almost a croak, finger still sliding forward because, _god damnit_ Dean was rocking against him, squirming and the look on his face was amazing.

It burned slightly but oddly added to the moment, as if the pain was just something to be accepted. Dean hadn't felt too much pain so far in his short life but this didn't really lessen his pleasure at all. It was _full_ , tingling up his spine, and Dean clenched around Sam's finger as his body adjusted. "Sam," he moaned softly, eyes fluttering closed.

If Sam was good at anything, it was research. All those years as a hunter and then school - and now- Dean's body. Thrusting his tongue into Dean's mouth he slid his finger forward, feeling the tight muscle stretch around him, giving way, pulling him in. Dean's tongue met his, their kisses hot and wet, urgent.

Sam got completely lost in Dean's body, the soft murmurs, the slide of hot flesh against hot flesh. He lost all sense of time, only able to measure in terms of kisses, licks, teeth biting down on flesh. He stretched his lover open with tender touches, patient and gentle; at the slightest sign of pain from Dean Sam would kiss him harder, stroke his cock until he was fully hard again. Three fingers, finally, sliding slick into Dean's ass; Sam shuddered with _want_ as his long fingers curled around both their cocks and brought the fiery flesh together.

It felt like Dean's body might literally just melt apart, dissolve under the intensity of the moment. There were brief moments of pain but they barely registered beyond everything pulsing _Sam_. He shifted restlessly down into Sam's fingers, muscles clenching as if he could feel all three fingers parting him open. "Sam," he gasped in between a kiss, eyes slowly opening to stare up at him. "Can you? I want you now... I'm ready," he breathed, eager and slightly urgent.

Withdrawing his fingers Sam rolled Dean away from him, curled an arm over his chest and pulled him back. Moaning as his cock settled in the crack of Dean's ass, Sam tightened his hold across the man's chest. "I love you," he murmured. Nipping his way down the shell of Dean's ear, Sam sucked the smooth earlobe into his mouth even as he reached out to fumble again with the bottle of lube. Stroking the cool liquid onto to his burning flesh Sam dragged his mouth across Dean's cheek, biting down hard on his lover's shoulder. Reaching between them Sam grabbed his cock, running the head slowly along Dean's ass until he couldn't resist pushing forward a moment longer. Tangling his fingers in Dean's hair he pulled tightly, _making_ Dean stretch his neck to the side and give him room to explore the sweat covered flesh. _Resistance_ then give and Sam trembled, the head of his cock buried in the tight heat of his lover.

This burn was more intense, much more than fingers, and Dean gasped in surprise. His body curved, slightly shying from the stretch and sensation, but it didn't take long for Sam's lips to thoroughly distract him until there was no burn, just that _full_ from before. Dean gasped and pushed back into the touch, sucking in a quick breath. "Love..." he managed to get out through the tight clench in his throat.

 _God_ Dean didn't even realize that something like this could exist, that he could feel so _much_ at the hands of another. He thought if he were still an angel, he wouldn't be strong enough to keep himself grounded to this world.

Groaning quietly against Dean's neck Sam felt the strain of holding back as he resisted the urge to slam into Dean's ass. _So long._ He'd wanted Dean like he'd never wanted anyone else - like he needed the air that he breathed. "God, it's - you're-" he moaned and his hips shot forward and he was buried in his lover. His teeth sank into Dean's shoulder blade as he half moaned, half cried out his lover's name and fought to hold his hips still. Balls pressed tight to Dean's ass Sam's body was alive with so much sensation he was gasping for breath.

For a moment Dean thought he may have actually lost the ability to see, everything blurred before him and his fingers curled into the blankets, chest rising and falling heavily with each labored breath. They stayed that way for a few minutes as this new burn and stretch slowly lessened, not so uncomfortable and stingy, and Sam's hips moved just enough to spark up another wave of pleasure. "So... so full-" Dean gasped and tentatively moved back into Sam's body, moaning as it seemed to push him further in, deeper than Dean would think possible.

Sam drew back, cock sliding out of the heat then he thrust forward. He cried out softly into Dean's hair. It was overwhelming - so insanely close to being too much that Sam's heart felt like it was beating so fast it would just fly right out of his chest any second.

Dean's body started a gentle roll, tentative, timid and Sam shifted to slide his arm over Dean's hip and trail his fingers along his lover's swollen cock. Laying a trail of kisses up Dean's neck Sam withdrew again - his cock aching for Dean almost immediately. Mouthing along Dean's jaw he stopped long enough at the man's ear to whisper, "is this what you wanted?" Slamming hard into Dean's ass he moaned, back arching almost painfully as the silken heat surrounded him once more.

The word came out of nowhere and Dean gasped it, "claimed," and shifted forward slightly to give Sam more room to do just that. _Claim him_. It was the step beyond being needed and wanted, this feeling of Sam driving down into him. He moaned loudly, feeling it climb up his chest and shake through him. Dean clenched his eyes shut in time with the tightening of his muscles, hips snapping back to meet the next thrust forward. "Sam," he groaned and let his head fall back, body curving to bring their skin as close together as possible.

The rhythm came easy after that. Dean was so open to him, pulling his cock in with the clench and release of his muscles and the soft whimpers that came from both of them mingled in the room. "God," Sam sighed, "you're mine, say you're mine." It was half question - half demand and Sam's hips continued to rock forcefully against Dean's ass. He could feel so much of Dean; his lover's cock was heavy and warm against his palm, twitching. Sam's fingers moved non-stop in Dean's soft hair, combing through the it gently one moment then gripping tightly the next.

"Y-yours," Dean gasped once more and bit down on his lip in the next moment, clamping hard as he moved into each snap forward of Sam's hips. He lost all concept of time, as if he hadn't already, and let himself fall into all the little sensations. It was going to be over soon, too soon, but Dean could not longer hold back. He felt like his insides were just going to implode, that he was simply going to dissolve into nothing. "Sam. I can't... I'm gonna..." he groaned when Sam's next thrust brushed against some spot in him that made heat flare up through him.

Sam's fingers swept up Dean's cock because _fuck_ he was so close himself. He thrust forward again, angling his hips to hit the spot inside Dean that made his lover's entire body jolt and twist in his arms. Releasing Dean's hair he slid his hand forward to cup his lover's cheek, hips snapping forward in an almost frantic rhythm. He gasped in a breath, murmuring wordlessly against Dean's ear. Heat built up inside him so quickly it took his breath away. Hand pressed hard against the rough curls at the base of Dean's cock he thrust again and again until he could feel his orgasm twisting out of control deep inside him. His hips stuttered forward and he came so hard his vision faded to white for a few moments just as he felt Dean's muscles start to clench tight around him.

There was just a moment that Dean registered Sam coming in him before his hips snapped up and his release curled down his spine. He wanted to remember this moment forever, the way his shoulders shook and his mind spun, the noise that fell from his lover's mouth. It was the most thrilling thing Dean had ever experienced and he panted heavily once his orgasm had ebbed off slightly. His mouth felt slightly dry and his muscles felt loose, and it was so good he moaned softly. "Sam," he whispered, attempting to turn slightly.

Sam managed to co-ordinate himself enough to slide out of Dean - he moaned - missing the heat of his lover then grabbed Dean roughly and twisted his body to face his own. Staring into his lover's eyes for the briefest moment he sank forward, collapsing against Dean's chest and crushing their mouths together. Everything he had went into that kiss because he knew he'd never have the words to describe how he felt about Dean. His heart was aching with the pleasure and _God_ his body was still twitching as little jolts of pleasure shot through him.

The kiss slowly faded from intensity to something soft and lingering, tender and warm. Dean murmured into Sam's mouth and dragged his fingers up through his hair. "I can't imagine a perfection better than this," he whispered into Sam's lips, fingers grazing along his cheeks. "You. I'm so blessed to be with you. To be yours." Dean sighed softly and tilted back up into the kiss.

Laughing softly Sam pulled back slightly. "You still sound like an angel," he murmured and pressed a soft kiss to the end of Dean's nose. He sighed, the idea of moving almost too much to bear. His heart slowed gradually as he nosed into Dean's hair and inhaled the now _so_ familiar smell.

Smiling softly Dean nodded. "Sorry, that might take a little while..." he curled his toes down into the mattress and sighed. "That was good right? I... we can do it again?" If his body didn't feel so spent, Dean was pretty sure heat would be rising up in him once more.

"It was _very_ good." Sam loosed his hold on Dean long enough to stretch his arms up high above his head then dip forward again for another kiss. He chuckled, "you're like crack - I can't stop."

"Only I'm legal, so... better," Dean smiled and curled into Sam, eyes closing slowly. "You got stuff? Homework?"

"I'm not moving yet and neither are you." Sam smiled and buried his face in Dean's neck.

Grinning brighter Dean agreed with a nod and settled more firm against Sam's side. He could happily stay there for the rest of his life.


	7. Chapter 7

Life, Dean soon discovered, could be absolutely amazing. Maybe it was his angelic history but he quickly learned never to take advantage of any single moment. The little world Sam and he shared was busy, full of school and work and shared moments that Dean would treasure forever. They settled into what he could only assume was a normal life, going about their daily routines, content to be back together in the evenings. Secretly, those were Dean's favorite times, when it felt like Sam closed a door on the rest of his responsibilities and focused entirely on Dean. He memorized every kiss, every slide of skin against his, every perfect little moment.

Work was oddly enjoyable. Dean hadn't been entirely sure because over the years he'd heard so many people complain about their jobs but that was mostly on the TV and Dean was quickly learning that the TV and real life weren't all that similar.

He enjoyed his job, the dogs were always eager to greet him with wagging tails and attempted licks - Dean avoided most and tolerated the ones he couldn't escape. The cats turned out to be just as fun, though general much mellower and occasionally standoffish.

Dean loved being able to come home and tell Sam all about his day, which animals he had seen adopted and how that pleased him, which ones were funniest to take out and play with. And he loved hear about Sam's day in return, even if most of the classes Sam was taking were a bit over his head.

Each morning he woke with Sam and they shared a quick breakfast before heading outside and parting in opposite directions. Dean would walk the ten blocks to the animal shelter treasuring the still tingling sensation on his lips from their goodbye kiss and trying to keep the weird little skip from entering his steps. It was easy to slip into a human lifestyle, to stop thinking about _before_ and settle into _now_.

Which was likely why he never saw it coming.

If the angel part of him was still there he might have sensed the difference in the atmosphere along his walk home. It was close to winter now and the sunshine was fading by the time he got off work. This particular day he had stayed a little later because Megan, his manager, was teaching him the rules for screening the potential adopters. It was also Friday so Dean was a little impatient, knowing he'd have a full weekend with Sam. They had plans to meet up with some of his friends, maybe take in a movie, but mostly just relax and enjoy a bit of freedom. He was starting to get why Sam had always looked forward to weekends during high school.

There was a slight chill in the air and Dean pulled his coat tighter around himself, quickening his steps. Something clattered nosily behind him and Dean glanced over his shoulder in time to see a cat skittering across the street, empty trash can rolling in its wake. A small smile played across his lips as he turned back to continue walking only to be brought up short by a man not five feet in front of him on the sidewalk.

It took a moment to register but one flash of yellow glistening eyes and Dean's heart seemingly stopped. He stumbled backward slightly, tripping over an untied shoelace and nearly falling. Fear gripped at him, dense and tangible and he sputtered out, "y-you."

"Yes. Me," the man smirked and slid forward. "Aren't you just the fucking little miracle Dean," he laughed, harsh and bitter, eyes locked on Dean. "Never seen an angel get his wings snatched away and sent to live amongst the filth."

In hindsight, it was clearly a stupid mistake. Dean hadn't been worrying about Sam's safety because he still wore his pendant, still carried a weapon in his bag. Dean hadn't even considered the _possibility_ that he'd be an open target. He was a useless, vulnerable target armed only with the few facts about hunting he’d learned from Sam. His body wasn’t accustomed to fighting of any sort. If he were to go up against this demon there would be no way to win. "Sam's not here," he spat, quickly trying to recover himself. "He's not with me. You can't get to him."

"Sure, he's not here _with you_ ," the demon pointed out and laughed once more. "Don't try and fool the one person who's been waiting for Sam for years. He may be safe under his silly little protection charms but you... oh _you_ Dean, you're not safe at all."

Dean suppressed the cold shudder that ran down his spine at the words. "What... what do you want?" He tried to stiffen his shoulders, make himself look taller and more intimidating; it wasn't as if the man knew how he lacked any experience for this.

"Sam, naturally. But as we've discussed, that's not an option currently. You though, you'll do for now." The demon took another step forward and Dean instantly countered it, sliding back and scowling.

"Me? What good could I possibly do?" Dean was stalling for time now, trying to find a logical way out. He could try running for one of the houses, banging on a door, but even if the person opened and let him in, that wouldn't stop a demon this powerful.

Another cold hard laugh filled the air between them for a long moment. "Shit, tell me you're not really this _stupid_? Didn't the little feathered freaks leave you any brain at all?"

Apparently the look on Dean's face only amused the demon, he laughed once more. "Dean. Oh silly, foolish, little _Dean_." The demon was right in front of him now and Dean felt a paralyzing grip of fear keeping him rooted to the spot. "You're the _one_ person Sam will go looking for. All we have to do is let him know we have you, and then Sam will walk right into my hands. And without your pathetic little angel powers, there will be nothing holding me back. I'll get Sam, and if you play nice, I'll let him keep you as a fun little pet."

 _Sam_. Oh _god_ Dean had messed up. He'd stepped out of his role from before and now was going to be the very reason Sam had to walk into danger. "No I-" he began but the words were cut off by a hard blow to the head. Dean swayed for a moment, blinking away stars before darkness swam across his vision and everything faded out.

-=-=-=-

It was impossible for Sam to be anything other than happy. Dean was amazing. It was the only word that ever seemed to capture the man. _Amazing_. Sam loved the life they had. Their patchwork apartment with all its bizarre furniture, sharing meals at night and laughing over failed attempts at cooking; Sam fell asleep each night in Dean's arms and woke to warm lips against his neck each morning.

They held hands. Sam could walk for hours with his fingers threaded through Dean's - so much was still so new to Dean and Sam shared to joy of each new discovering his boyfriend made.

Of course, Dean met Sam's friends and everyone loved the quirky and _hot_ guy that Sam had managed to hide from them for so long. Nathan assured Sam that he got a great guy. Brian asked if there were more like Dean. When Dean answered quite seriously that there might be _lots in heaven_ \- Sam simply pointed out that _Heaven_ was a night club in New York and stepped on Dean's foot.

There was one person who still knew nothing about Dean and that was John Winchester. Sam just hadn't been able to bring himself to call his Dad and tell him he was living with a man and _in love_. The fact that Dean had been an angel was a whole other bag of weasels. That would take a lot of thought and planning - possibly even protective charms and spells and Sam wasn't quite sure he was ready yet.

As usual, Sam called out Dean's name when he pushed the front door open that night and only remembered when he was greeted with silence that Dean had said he might be working late.

Checking for messages on his cell phone, Sam frowned, noted the time and rooted through the refrigerator for something to eat. Settling on the couch he tossed his phone around in his hand absent-mindedly while he munched on an apple. Smiling, he realized he missed Dean - even when it was only a matter of hours that they'd been apart. Scrolling through the contacts in his phone Sam called the shelter with a goofy grin on his face. Maybe he'd walk down and pick Dean up, stop for coffee on the way home.

When the phone was picked up it was Megan, Dean's boss.

"Megan! It's Sam - is my boy still there? I was thinkin-"

There are pivotal moments in a person's life - moments when everything is sort of brought into focus; priorities fixed. Hearing how _wrong_ Megan's voice was the instant she cut Sam off was one of those moments. His blood ran cold. A demon. A demon waiting at the shelter - possessing Megan. So close to Dean. Sam and Dean had gotten too caught up in their lives. _God_ , Sam should have known to be more careful - they should have thought about the fact that Dean was different now - less able to protect himself.

If he tried to repeat the words later it would come out all backwards; the words and phrases that Sam would remember were the ones that cut his heart, slicing into him sharp and quick. _Azazel_ , _Taken Dean_ , _Arizona_ and there was Sam's moment just like that. If anything happened to Dean Sam would die. _Coordinates_.

Sam was off the couch in seconds, shaking hands trying to tug his old duffel bag out of the closet. _Weapons_ , he needed something - he needed to fight this _bastard_ and kill him and... Sam sank down to his knees in front of their closet. _Dean_. Dean was different now, probably less able to take care of himself now than Sam was. Azazel had Dean and Sam had to get him. Realizing he was still holding his phone Sam tilted his head slowly - the shock of everything finally starting to thaw inside him.

Fumbling with his phone Sam scrolled through the contacts once more and stopped on _Dad_. Even while he was listening to the phone ring he knew he hadn't the slightest idea of what to say - but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt his Dad was the only person who could help him.

"Sam?" John's voice was gruff as it came across the line. "It's been awhile."

Sam leaned against the wall, hand moving up to tangle hard in his hair. "D..Dad?" Sam's chest tightened as he tried to speak. "Dad - I need your help." His head fell forward, thudding dully against the wall. "They've got Dean, and... and I gotta go get. Dad it's him - it's Azazel and they'll kill him." He sucked in a sharp breath - the pain of his words making the reality of the situation entirely too real.

"Alright, Sam, just calm down a moment. Who's Dean?" John's voice was alert now and there was the distinct sound of things moving in the background.

"He's mine. He's," Sam's face crumpled momentarily then he sucked in a breath and tired to hold himself together. "He's my boyfriend, Dad. I meant to tell you - I wanted to call but I couldn't figure out how to say it. Dad," Sam's voice wavered, "please. I... I need your help." Sam listened to the silence on the other end of the phone for a few moments.

John coughed after an extended couple of minutes. "Alright." Another moment of silence before John sighed and metal from the zipper of his duffel bag clattered on the table. "So what do we know? You're sure it's Azazel that has this... that has Dean?"

"What?" Sam was quickly losing his ability to focus. This was exactly why he had called his father. "Uh, a demon - his boss - she was possessed, _God_ , is she okay? I should go down there." Sam stumbled to his feet. "Dad? Where are you? What should I do?"

"I'm in Utah. Don't worry about the girl, sounds like Azazel had this planned. Look Sam, you need to wait for me. We'll go get Dean together, but you're in no shape right now to rush in by yourself. Did they give you a location?" John's voice was more determined now, slightly rushed as worked on packing up his things.

"Arizona, I've - they gave me coordinates north thirty-three, twenty six, West one eleven, fifty five." Sam rubbed at his eyes, "Dad? You're coming here?" Sam felt like he was going to throw up; if anything happened to Dean...

"To you? No. It'll be faster for use to meet in Arizona. Can you drive?" The truck door creaked loudly a moment later and John sighed. "Sam, listen to me. You need to get your mind in the right place. You ain't gonna do any good for Dean if you get in a wreck or get stopped by the cops alright? Use this drive to switch into hunter mode and I'll meet you there, we'll talk when we get close."

"Yeah," Sam murmured. "Yeah," more firm. "Okay, yeah, I can drive." _Hold it together for Dean._ He would do this right - his Dad would meet him there and they could get to Dean somehow. "Dad?" Sam took a couple of deep breaths. "Thanks." _Hunter mode_. Sam could do that for Dean.

"Don't thank me yet. You need a rest you take a break alright? Azazel is using Dean to get to you, he's not gonna kill him alright? I'll be there mid morning tomorrow."

Sam kept his father's words close to his heart. _He's not gonna kill him._ He moved quickly, stuffing down his emotions and focussing on his years of training. Between his father and Dean - Sam was a walking wealth of information about protection. He gathered the few weapons and tools he had stashed away in the apartment, some clothes, for him _and_ Dean then stood at the front door of their home with his hand curled around his pendant. "I'm bringing you home, Dean."

-=-=-=-

Sam followed all his Dad's rules once he was in the Impala. Stay below the speed limit. Drive carefully. Take care of yourself; he choked down some soup and pulled off the road twice to sleep restlessly on the front seat of the car. Hours passed by. Sam could barely hold it together sometimes but he always focused back in on Dean - wanting him back, knowing how terrified he must be.

Gas up the car. Drink water. Get coffee for the car. Walk around the parking lot to stretch out his legs. Sam wasn't even sure how he managed to go in the right direction, but he did. About an hour away from his Dad he called and found out that the man had already got a motel room for them. Something as close to relief as Sam could feel trickled down his spine.

Dust swirled up around the Impala as Sam pulled into the parking lot at his Dad's motel. The beginning hints of sunrise dulled Sam's hopes. It was the first time he and Dean had spent an entire day apart since they'd found each other again. Grabbing his gear out of the car he looked up in time to see the curtain falling back down in the window of his Dad's room. Sam's heart picked up its pace a little; it wasn't every day he saw his father and it certainly wasn't the way he'd wanted to tell him about Dean.

Pacing over to the door Sam lifted his hand and rapped his knuckle hard against the door.

John tugged the door open and slid back, giving Sam room to walk inside. "Sam, good to see you minus the circumstances." He clapped Sam on the shoulder as he pushed the door shut with his side.

Dropping his duffel to the floor, Sam rubbed his palms nervously on the thighs of his jeans. Blowing out a breath, a smile skittering across his face, Sam stared over at his Dad. "Dad," he dropped his gaze to his father's boots. They looked like they'd seen better days, old and chewed up leather, soles getting a bit thin. Blinking slowly Sam pushed his hair back off his forehead. "I, uh, I wanted to call and tell you."

With a shrug John crossed the room to small fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, twisting the cap off. "I get it. Not the easiest thing to talk to your old man about. But, c'mon Sam, all the shit I see? You really think I'm gonna be pissed at you for liking men?" John's lips twitched in a slight smile and he dropped down onto the edge of one bed. "How long you been together? He's a student there?"

 _Wow._ Huffing out a tight laugh Sam turned and looked out the window for a moment or two. "We've known each other a long time but the last ..." sighing Sam turned back to his father. "Do you remember the time I took the car to Kansas City?" Sam smiled briefly - the warmth of those memories pushing away the fear and apprehension for a few moments. "We spent the day together - it was kind of a beginning." It wasn't a lie - it was _a_ beginning if far from being _the_ beginning. He glanced at his father out of the corner of his eyes.

"Always had a hunch you hadn't been alone that day," John pointed out and laughed softly. "So, he's seen Azazel before then? Does he know about this stuff? Do you think he has any idea what's going on?"

Sam nodded slowly. "He comes from a family of hunters. They're a lot different than us. Dad?" Sam tried to fight down the emotion surging up in his chest. "Dean saved me that day. If he hadn't been there - I was stupid - and he was the one who was thinking right. Dad? We gotta get him back. I can't..." Sam couldn't give substance to the ache in his heart. He couldn't hear his own voice say, _I can't live without him._

Stepping toward his son John hesitated for a moment before pulling Sam in for a hug. "I've been waiting for this moment Sam. To confront Azazel. Trust me, we're gonna get Dean back and then we're gonna make it so you don't have to worry about him ever again." John stepped back after a moment, clearly still curious about Dean and his history. He shook his head and pointed at the bed. "You get a few hours of sleep; I need you at your best."

Nodding slowly, Sam moved over to one of the beds and sank down heavily onto it. The exhaustion of his night caught up to him quickly and he was sleeping before he had time to worry any further. It reminded him of when he was younger, falling asleep to the sounds of metal weapons clanking quietly, the smell of gun oil and his father comforting him.

-=-=-=-

Sam shifted slightly where he was lying on the dune alongside his Dad. He stared across to the warehouse located dead center at the coordinates Sam had been given. There had been no sign of movement since they arrived but Sam knew Dean was there. He could feel it. He just hoped nothing had happened to him. "Dad?" Sam's voice was a low whisper. The need to get moving was itching at him; he needed to see Dean. Know that he was okay.

"I don't think they're going to expect me to be with you," John said quietly and shifted around until he could pull the gun free from where it was tucked at his side. "One thing I've learned about this demon in all my years searching for him, he's got one hell of an ego. He's probably thinkin' you'll come rushing in. So, you'll do just that. Keep them distracted, I'll sneak in the back." John's eyes were in constant movement across the warehouse before fixing on Sam, hand reaching out to curl over his forearm. "Sam, you gotta keep yourself in check, no matter what... condition you find Dean in alright?"

"Condition?" Sam's eyes darted to his father's profile. His throat dried instantly.

Frowning slightly, John inclined his head in a brief nod. "I suspect they might have..." He shrugged slightly and sighed. "Just, promise me you'll think about your actions alright? Don't be stupid, no matter how you feel for this boy. Think how he'll feel if you let yourself get hurt trying to save him."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut against the hurt that slammed into him. Brow furrowed he blinked his eyes open again and stared back at the warehouse. "Yes, Sir." His Dad would get Dean out, Azazel would have kept Dean alive or he couldn't guarantee that Sam would go there. Sighing, Sam pushed up to his feet - knowing he was in plain sight of anyone who might be looking out from the warehouse. It didn't matter - his father was right - they were expecting him. Raising his hand to his mouth, rubbing gently and covering any sign that he was speaking. "Dad? You come get us." He strode forward down the hill, shotgun at his side.

It was the longest hike of Sam's life. He could feel the sweat trickling down his back between his shoulder blades, his heart thumping away like a jack hammer. The closer he got to the warehouse the more he had to resist the urge to look behind him for some sign that his father was on the move. He trusted the man more than anyone but Dean. _Dean_.

Hesitating a moment when he got to the warehouse door Sam took a deep breath and pushed it open slipping into the cool darkness. Blinking he tried to look around and couldn't see a damn thing, his eyes were struggling to adjust to the darkness.

-=-=-=-

The clatter across the warehouse was the first sound Dean had heard in awhile, but he was pretty sure he'd been knocked out for most of the time. At the moment, all he was really aware of pain. Lots and lots of pain. Enough that Dean couldn't pinpoint all the specific areas that hurt. It was just a general thing.

His hands were held back behind him around a metal pole and he could only see out of one eyes. Coppery blood stung across his dry mouth and Dean’s stomach churned unpleasantly. He forced his good eye up to the noise, bracing himself for the next round of blows. Only it wasn't the demon, it was Sam, and he was so relieved he let out a dry, strangled sob, straining against the restraints on his wrists in attempt to climb up off the floor. He wondered fleetingly where the demon was, but his focus was completely on Sam now.

Stumbling forward Sam rubbed at his eyes with his free hand, the shotgun clenched tightly. "Dean?" He called out and recoiled nervously when his voice echoed back at him. He could hear rustling, a small sound. "Dean..." his voice softened. His Dad's words were running through his mind: _He's probably thinkin' you'll come rushing in. Keep them distracted_. He moved faster - heading toward the small noises he could hear. "Dean!"

Once more Dean tried to push up to his feel, struggled against the cuffs holding him back. "Sam," he groaned as his shoulder stung in protest, sharp pain flaring through him. His head was pounding against his skull, stomach flipping unpleasantly as another wave of pain washed through him. He blinked through his one good eye and stared up in Sam's direction.

Eyes adjusting to the darkness Sam could make out Dean struggling along the back wall and he broke into a run. "Fuck," he hissed under his breath. The closer he got the more his heart clenched and angered boiled up in him. They didn't have to do this. He skidded to knees in front of Dean the shotgun clattering to the warehouse floor. "Dean, I'm here. Oh God..." Sam's hands fluttered besides Dean's face. There was blood everywhere, dried, some still wet, Dean's lip was split wide open, his eye swollen closed against his bruised cheek. Leaning forward against Dean's tattered clothing Sam couldn't help pressing his lips to Dean's cheek as he fumbled clumsily with the rope binding his hands behind him.

Dean struggled up to try and lean into Sam, sucking in his smell and allowing it to comfort him. "Sam they're not... they're here somewhere..." he gasped out, knowing there would be slim to no chance Sam would be able to get him out of here without a confrontation, they were likely just waiting for the right moment.

"Sam, good to see you," the demon's voice rang clear across the room and he stepped out of the shadows, flanked on either side by a demon. "Why don't you just go ahead and step away from Dean now," he suggested, though it was more of a command judging from the tone.

Sam shuddered at the familiar sound of the voice and pulled his hands back slowly, letting his fingers curl around the back of Dean's neck. Leaning in he brushed his lips to Dean's cheek again and whispered, "love you, s'gonna be okay." Pulling back slightly he stared over at Azazel, "you... let Dean go," he said through teeth gritted so tight his jaw was aching. He could smell the blood and dirt caked on Dean's clothes and his body and he was so angry he barely sucked breath in. "You're got me, you don't need him."

Buying his Dad some time to get down there, scope things out, Sam squared his shoulders stubbornly. Turning to focus on Dean's face he could see the fear there. Sam slid his hands forward gently, wincing as he cupped Dean's cheeks. "God," he whispered, "I'm _so_ sorry." This should never have happened. Bitterness at their fate welled up inside Sam like bile.

"My fault," Dean whispered, leaning slightly into the touch of Sam's hand just ease some of the pain working through him.

"Aren't they just _adorable_ ," Azazel laughed and glanced at his companions, smirking as they snickered in response. "Come on over here Sam, take that ridiculous necklace off and let us have a good look at you. Then we'll let your precious little Dean go, he'll be free to walk out that door, none of us will touch him."

"Don't," the word was a harsh gasp from Dean, needless since he trusted Sam not to do something foolish like take his pendant off.

Pressing his lips ever-so-slightly to Dean's Sam murmured, "I love you, so much." Swallowing around the lump in his throat he pushed up to his feet and took a step back. "You let him go," he kicked his shotgun away sending it sliding across the floor closer to the demons. "You let him go - and when he's out of the warehouse I'll take my pendant off." His voice wavered. _God_ , his Dad just needed time to get into position.

The demon considered him with dark yellow eyes for a minute before glancing at Dean and half nodding. "Good to see you're a smart Winchester, sure you're dad would be nice and proud." He watched as the demon to the left of him crossed to Dean, pulling a blade from his pocket.

"Sam," Dean hissed slightly when the demon tugged on his arms. He thought maybe his shoulder wasn't in the right position or something. "You can't... don't do this," he insisted and struggled to pull up to his feet.

"Get up angel filth," the demon hissed and tugged him up by his hair, implanting a foot low on his back and sending him stumbling across the hard cement floor.

Dean crashed down hard onto the floor, crying out when his hands connected to the floor and his shoulder protested. Blood fell from his mouth onto the floor and Dean shoved the pain aside in favour of panicking on Sam's behalf. "Sam," he breathed.

Sam was starting to lose control of himself. Falling down again to his knees he pulled Dean into his arms. "Stop it," he spat over his lover's shoulder. "If you hurt him anymore I will fight you every step of the way. Do you fucking hear me?" His eyes blazed as he nailed Azazel with a sharp glare, holding Dean as close as he could while slowly working the knots lose around his lover's wrists. He could feel the warmth of fresh blood from Dean's mouth seeping into his t-shirt.

"You know, it really is a curious thing. Dean must have done something really _awful_ before he got his wings stripped, clearly they don't care enough to come down and save him," Azazel pointed out with a sneer and a half nod at the demon still hovering beside Dean. "The deal is Sam, we let him go, you stay. He lives and you... well. You get to live too so mellow out. And let him _go_."

Dean nearly screamed when the demon grasped his bad arm and pulled back, yanking him to his feet. Bile rose along the back of his throat and his shoulder popped back into place with the force, vision blurring as he swayed.

Azazel opened his mouth to say something further but the words died on the tip of his tongue when a barrel pressed into the side of his skull. His eyes slid sideways once before drifting back to Sam. "Ah, so you've called Daddy. How sweet. How's it going John? Been awhile. Things still... good?" The demon laughed coldly and rolled his eyes.

"I'm gonna kill you, once and for all," John growled, eyes shooting toward his son. "Sam, you get Dean out of here."

"Aw how sweet, Daddy even cares about the angel. This is all just so, touching." Azazel smirked again and stared out of the corner of his eye to watch John's expression. "You did know that's what he is right? Filthy little Heaven cast out. Not really good enough to keep around."

"Shut up!" Sam screamed at the demon, eyes darting back quickly to his father before he tugged the ropes off Dean's wrists and slipped an arm under his lover's knees. "Try and hang on Dean," he murmured into his lover's matted hair. Dean's hands took a few moments to move and then one of them curled into Sam's shirt. Grunting, Sam pushed up from the warehouse floor and shifted Dean in his arms. A few tentative steps toward the door and he paused, "Dad?"

"Go Sam. Get him out of here," John growled, eyes fixed on the demon before him.

Stumbling forward under the weight of his lover Sam tore his eyes away from his Dad and moved as quickly as he could toward the warehouse door. He had a long damn way to carry Dean if he was going to get him to the relative safety of the car.

John's thumb pulled back along the top of the gun, lip quirking in a snarl. "Any last words before I put you were you belong?"

Azazel didn't look in the slightest bit concerned and his eyes rolled in faint annoyance. "So I'll have to go find myself a new meat suit, just an inconvenience John. It's not gonna stop me from getting to Sammy. It's all a matter of time."

This time John laughed and stepped in slightly, head shaking from side to side. "You really think I'd take that chance?" His finger curled along the trigger and he snarled. "You killed my wife asshole. You don't deserve to exist."

Before the demon could summon up a response John pulled the trigger. The shot rang through the warehouse and John watched the body collapse, eyes fixed down until he was certain he wasn't rising. By the time he looked back up the two other demons had scattered, likely disappearing out the back entrance he'd made his way in. Satisfied with the death of the one creature he'd been hunting for most of the last two decades, John flicked the safety back on his weapon and headed quickly outside to his son.

"It's taken care of," John informed him when he stepped up to the car, eyes flickering to the backseat where Sam had slid Dean's apparently unconscious body. "Come on, I'll drive. Let's get him some help."

Sam crawled into the backseat and gingerly picked up Dean's head to cradle it on his lap. "Dad? What happened? How did you..." His father's shoulders were stiff as he slammed his foot down onto the gas and the car fishtailed slightly on the dirt road.

"Been lookin' for that gun for awhile. Only thing with the power to kill it. Then it just came down to finding him," John lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, eyes catching Sam's reflection in the mirror. "He breathing?"

"Yeah," Sam's fingers moved slowly over Dean's cheek. "Yeah, he's just, he's hurt bad.” Sam could see a tremor beginning in his hand as the adrenaline started to leave his system. "I think - he'll be okay." Sam cleared his throat and gazed down at Dean's swollen face. Tugging his own shirt off over his head Sam balled it up and pressed a corner of it to the blood still seeping from the corner of Dean's mouth and the re-opened cut on his lip.

John's foot pressed harder into the peddle and they sped along the dirt road. "We'll get him some help." He insisted, voice slightly tense. "Sam, what that thing said..." John's eyes caught Sam's for another brief flash in the mirror before he turned away. "Well. We'll discuss it later. You just hold on."

They didn't stop driving for an hour and it was silent the entire time. John knew they needed a hospital with enough resources to be able to help Dean. By the time they got there he was worried about how much blood the man might have lost and Sam adrenaline had faded enough to make him appear in a slightly quiet, shocked comatose state. So John took control of the situation, scooping Dean up in his arms from the back seat, not missing a beat when Sam provided the ID that said Winchester. He told this nurse that Dean was his son, that he'd picked a fight with the wrong guy in a bar and stumbled home looking like this.

The nurse was quick to fetch a gurney and John laid him down slowly, curling fingers tightly around Sam's shoulder when he tried to follow. "They've got to check him out first. We'll go back later," he insisted quietly and steered Sam across the waiting room to a chair. Once Sam was sitting he crossed the room and purchased a soda, something to kick start Sam's system once more. Taking the seat beside Sam once more he pressed the soda into his palm and nudged him. "Drink up. Then we're gonna talk."

With trembling fingers Sam took the soda. He glanced up at his Dad and flipped the can open. "You think he's gonna be okay?" Lifting the can to his lips Sam took a few long swallows of the almost sickly sweet liquid. Frowning he glanced at the can for a moment.

"Yeah, I think so," John nodded, voice confident in the statement. "Seen people bounce back from a lot worse." He reclined back in his own seat and opened his own soda, sipping it for a moment before turning his eyes back to his son. "So. You wanna tell me what that demon was talking about back at the warehouse?"

Sam knew exactly what his Dad was asking. _Angel filth_ and _Heaven's outcast_. An annoying twitch started along Sam's chin, his jaw clenched and unclenched a few times. "I, uh," he lifted the can to his lips again and swallowed, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. "Dean was, he's been around a long time." Sam's fingers flicked at the tab on the top of the can until it suddenly snapped off and fell to the floor with a light tinkling sound.

For a long few minutes John was silent, nodding slowly and curling his fingers into his can. "When you were little... you used to say that." He swallowed thickly and looked up at Sam. "Dean. You used to talk... it was one of the first things you said. I thought maybe it was just a phase. An imaginary friend. You stopped doing that when you were about six so I just..." John rubbed his fingers along his chin. "But. That's not true is it? He's what Azazel said?"

"Dean wasn't cast out." Sam kept his eyes locked on the soda can, turning it slowly in his hands. "If that's what you mean... I think it might be my fault."

"Uh huh." John nodded once more; face slightly tight as if he was clearly having trouble trying to believe the logic in this situation. "And uh, why is he no longer an... angel?"

"I told him I didn't need him anymore." Sam's breath hitched in his chest. "I was mad... I spent my whole life with him following me around like my fuckin' shadow - and ninety per cent of the time he was my best friend, you know? I couldn't imagine life without him, he was _everything_ that was good and sweet and solid in my life." Sam's expression softened and he glanced quickly up at his Dad. "I don't mean-"

"Hey, don't worry. I know I wasn't..." John shrugged and dropped his hand to his lap. "Well, we both know I wasn't the best father. Always wondered how you managed..."

John looked toward his son, brows pulled together slightly. "So uh, why? I mean, alright, I'm willing to accept the angel thing, there's been enough bad to imagine a good, but why you?"

It was strange to be asked that question. "He was protecting me, in Kansas city," Sam's brows furrowed, "he was the one who stopped Azazel. Dean didn't know much, just what they figured he needed to know I guess. Maybe whatever it is that's always had this _thing_ chasing after us. Me. I don't know, Dad, but..." Sam dropped his gaze once more, "it scares me." He shrugged and drained the soda can before tossing it into the garbage can beside the seat. "Something about me I guess. Maybe - do you think maybe it's over now that Azazel is gone?"

Sam's eyes widened and he turned slightly toward his father. "Maybe this can stop now? For everyone?"

"Yeah, he's gone and I don't see any reason why you should worry anymore," John nodded swiftly and looked content to not discuss the angel thing any further. Sometimes it was just better to nod and accept things and not question it too much. "That doesn't mean you don't have to be careful though. You need to make sure Dean can take care of himself. Get him some protection. And keep your place safe."

"I know, we just moved in there a little while back and - it was stupid, I thought we were okay." Sam shook his head. "It was really stupid." Both men knew that Sam should have taken more precautions. He got lazy, lulled into a false sense of security by a few months of ordinary life. It was stupid and Sam wouldn't fall for it again. Pushing up from the chair he paced across the room, craning his neck to see if he could see anything down the hallway. "It won't happen again, I'll take care of him." His brow furrowed again. "Just please bring him back to me once more," he whispered.

John watched the man his son had become for a few minutes before stretching out in the seat and crossing his ankles in front of him. "Might as well try and get some rest Sam. It's gonna be a bit before there's any news."

Sam paced for a while, sat and sighed a lot then eventually slid down in the chair slightly and fell into a half sleep twitching occasionally as he tried to fight it.

-=-=-=-

Groggy and disoriented Sam pushed himself up quickly when his father shook his shoulder.

The doctor was there, crisp white jacket and strange soft looking dark blue shoes. Her shoes looked really comfortable. She was young - and Sam thought maybe that meant that she was god at her job - just out of school and eager. What did he know though? She spoke to John about his _son_. There were many lacerations to his face and shoulders, Dean had needed several sets of stitches including for one deep gash on his chest. Dean's eyes appeared to be undamaged although the swelling would take a long time to go down. His shoulder had been dislocated and he'd be wearing a sling for several weeks.

The words started to run together in Sam's mind. _Physiotherapy, bandages, medication, cracked ribs, a lot of his torso covered in bruises, Concussion._ But, there was no reason not to expect him to make a full recovery. Sam's shoulders dropped and he ran his hands through his hair. _He was going to be alright._

Sam sprang up out of his chair and asked if they could see Dean and was granted a few moments. They followed the doctor down the hallway past other patient’s rooms, the nurse’s station, a man in a wheelchair, a family gathered outside one room. Sam's body felt too heavy, his feet leaded and slow.

His gaze followed the doctor’s hand as she gestured to an open door and he stumbled forward. Pushing his way past a long white curtain he finally caught sight of Dean. There was a gel pack on his eye in the midst of a sea of white bandages; blood was still caked on his face and in his hair and Sam's heart felt like it would split in two. An IV needle was taped to the back of his hand, the clear liquid dripping slowly from a bottle hung by the side of the bed. Wide-eyed Sam glanced back over at his Dad for a moment then took a hesitant step closer to the bed.

"He's gonna be okay Sam," John whispered, hesitating near the door, reaching behind him to push it closed once the doctor was on her way.

Dean only vaguely registered the voices and he slowly turned on the mattress beneath him. Things didn't hurt so much anymore but everything felt fuzzy, slow, like the way he felt when he was neither here nor there before he'd become human. "Sam?" He whispered, forcing his good eye open slowly and wincing against the brightly light. "Sammy?" He tried again, a little louder.

"Dean." Relief flooded through Sam's body and he nearly choked on the sob that pushed its way up out of his throat. He didn't know where to touch Dean, not wanting to hurt him. One hand settled softly against the dark mauve bruises on his lover's chest, the other picking up the hand closest to him. "Hey," he sniffed, tears trickling slowly down his cheeks. "You're gonna be okay. Are you hurting?"

"Hmm no," Dean slowly shook his head and gave Sam a small smile though it stretched his lips weirdly. "I feel kinda like... like... I had too much wine."

John chuckled softly and stepped forward an inch. "They've got him on a lot of pain meds. He's probably going to be out of it for awhile."

Dean's head tolled toward him slowly. "Hey... you... the father. I _know_ you." Dean realized his mistake a moment later and looked back toward Sam, frowning slightly. "Uh... I mean... I've seen you? In um, in... pictures?" Dean looked a little desperately up at Sam. His tongue felt heavy and thick and he itched to reach up and wipe the tears from Sam's cheeks but his hand felt like a lead weight.

Kneeling down beside the bed Sam pressed Dean's hand to his lips. "It's okay, Dean," he actually managed a small laugh, "he knows everything." He couldn't help picking up Dean's hand and pressing it to his cheek. "He killed him," Sam whispered, "we're gonna be okay." Sam's eyes trailed up to Dean's face, so battered and bruising already and he pressed his eyes closed for a few moments.

"Oh..." Dean exhaled slowly and pulled at Sam as much as he could. "Hey, I'm alright. I... actually right now I don't feel so bad. But, we're okay. You came and saved me," Dean smiled briefly before looking once more at John. He hadn't actually thought he'd see the man ever again, but if Dean was honest it was reassuring and comforting to see him standing there. "Thank you um... Mr. Winchester."

John chuckled softly and stepped closer, shaking his head. "From what I've learned so far, I'd say you calling me John is just fine." His hand extending to Sam's shoulder and squeezed for a moment before he stepped back. "I'll just wait out in the hall; see if I can't find out how long he's got to be here."

Dean watched the man go and the door closed before returning his gaze to Sam. "I... I was so scared they'd get you," he admitted quietly.

"C'mon," Sam teased half-heartedly, "I'm a ninja - they can't get me." Sam shifted and considered crawling into bed with Dean but didn't want to hurt his ribs. "I'd hold you, _God_ , I really want to but you have cracked ribs and..." Sighing he reached down and tried to push Dean's hair back a little. "Want me to wash your face?"

"Okay," Dean murmured and blinked slowly, feeling slightly dizzy since he could see only from one eye. "I want you to hold me. I want. I need to know we're gonna be okay... because, this was, I could have died." Dean sighed shakily frowned when it made his chest ache weirdly beyond the pain medicine haze.

"Just a minute," Sam squeezed Dean's hand gently and moved about the room quickly. He found a small plastic basin and filled it with warm water in the bathroom then returned to Dean's bed with a white washcloth and the bowl. Setting both on the small meal tray at the side of the bed Sam kicked off his boots and climbed onto the bed as carefully as he could. He winced as he slid an arm under Dean's neck and settled as close as he could without touching his lover's bruised torso.

Grabbing the cloth he squeezed most of the water out and moved it gently across the areas of Dean's face that wasn't covered in bandages.

Dean relaxed under the touches, breathing slowly as they calmed him in a way no medicine ever could. "Remember, you were seven and you fell off your bike. I cleaned up your knee?" A warm smile lifted the edges of Dean's lips softly. "Always took care of you, now you take care of me," the words were murmured and quiet and Dean's good eye wasn't even bothering to open now.

"I remember," Sam leaned down and kissed the corner of Dean's mouth. He trailed the cloth down his lover's neck and wiped gently at some of the blood. "We'll always take care of each other," Sam whispered. He watched the steady thrum of Dean's pulse in his neck and smiled.

"Always," Dean agreed and sighed softly. He wondered if this was what he was meant for all along, when Rahmiel said he was different, _they_ were different. Maybe he had to be a physical being to be the best guardian angel. It made him smile, made him pleased, and Dean forced his good eye open. "I love you Sammy."

Laughing softly, Sam dropped the cloth back in the basin and cupped Dean's cheek. "We need to get you an eye patch, you look like a pirate." Exhaustion was eating away at Sam and he lay down on the mattress at Dean's side. "Sleep for a while - and we'll get you home soon." Curling his fingers over Dean's arm, Sam closed his eyes just for a few moments. "I love you."

-=-=-=-

John Winchester considered himself a man with a mission, and lots of little missions on the side. Since the moment his wife died something had sparked him, a will and drive to find the thing that did it and wipe it off the face of this earth. Having now done that, after almost nineteen years of searching, John wasn't sure if he felt pleased or... empty. That thing that had consumed him for so long was finally no longer an issue and, leaning against the wall in the middle of a hospital; it was almost a bit of a revelation. He could look back over all the years and see his flaws now, see how he'd never given Sam the amount of attention he needed, he'd never really been good at being a single parent.

But Sam had never been alone and the thought no longer scared him. Someone had deemed Sam worthy of an angel, maybe some form of a guardian, and suddenly so much about his son made sense. Curiosity had him entering the room once more a half hour later. The sight before him on the bed made his steps falter. Even asleep his son looked happy, content, like being there with this, Dean, made the world somehow right. There were still creatures to hunt, still things to take care of, but John thought maybe he'd take a trip to California. Maybe he could make some amends for life he'd never given his boy.

And, he'd like to thank Dean. For being there when he couldn't. Even if he'd never said it, Sam's happiness had always been important. Sam looked happy now, John had things to atone for, but he'd heard somewhere that angels encouraged second chances. So maybe having Dean as an unexpected part to their family unit, wouldn't really be that bad.

He left them asleep on the bed together and settled outside the door to wait; making plans for an unknown future that didn't look quite so bleak.


End file.
